


Making History

by Arcawolf



Series: Hiccup and his Flying, Obnoxious Dragon [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: And Hiccup's just being dragged along for the ride, Bromance, Gen, Humor, Toothless being utterly adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 60,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcawolf/pseuds/Arcawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiccup Horrendous Haddock had finally managed to shoot down a dragon, only to find he doesn't have the stomach to kill it. So he sets it free and the dragon . . . flies away. That should be the end of it, but dragons have long memories, and fate has a funny way of catching up to you.</p>
<p>An AU in which Toothless never lost his tailfin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

When you think of pests, most people only have to worry about bugs and mice. Some might have to worry about rabbits. But my village? We get to worry about _dragons_. And not just your ordinary fire-breathing reptiles, but dragons that can shoot spikes, dragons that can spit acid, dragons that _light themselves on fire_.

And yes, we have fire-breathing dragons, too.

But none are as feared as the dreaded Night Fury, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. No one has ever seen one before, except as a blur when it races through the sky. If it wasn’t for all the damage it caused, we probably wouldn’t know it existed. Because when it came to toppling watch towers, annihilating homes and just being a general pain, the Night Fury was definitely the best of them all.

Yep, the dreaded Night Fury . . .

. . . also known as the dragon I just released.

Yep. I had one right in front of me, completely helpless. Completely neutralized. Tied up by an invention I had made.

And I cut it loose.

And it . . . well, it jumped on me, nearly broke my ribs, roared a bit, and then it . . . it . . . it opened its wings and flew off.

Just like that.

Something tells me I should have thought out that plan a little more.

I probably should have felt guilty. I mean it’s not just like I simply tripped and spilled my dad’s dinner all over him (again); I just released the most feared dragon known to mankind. The others probably would have given me an award for that . . . in the form of a few fists and lots of blood.

I knew what I should have done, as a Viking. I just couldn’t do it. I’m not entirely sure what I had expected to see when I looked into that dragon’s eyes, but I knew I didn’t expect to see fear and resignation. I didn’t expect to see something so _human_. So like me. And once I saw that, well, that was the end.

So, yes, that’s how it happened. I cut the dragon loose with the knife I had brought to kill it, and it flew off into the wild yonder. Now, I had to deal with the fact that I just _set loose a Night Fury_ , and that I had absolutely no stomach for killing dragons, which was practically what my entire village was based around. I guess it’s better that I found out now, before my dad let me train with the other dragon-slayers-in-training. Of course, now the question was what was I supposed to do with myself . . .?

Well, we’ve always needed more bread-making Vikings anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

So, let's reiterate. I, after fending off a dragon raid with a death-defying performance (by which I mean I almost got fried . . . again), took down the one dragon my village feared above all others. Naturally, everybody thought I was lying. So, being me, I calculated the general area where the dragon should have landed, and set off to find it. Then I let it go, and it flew away.

And that's where I am now.

I shielded my eyes from the sun as I stared up at the sky. Already, less than ten seconds after I had released it, the dragon was already out of sight. It had gone back to its nest, I guess. Probably getting ready for yet another raid on my village.

"Great going, Hiccup," I muttered to myself. "Now everything that dragon does is _my_ fault."

I sighed and looked down at the knife in my hand. It seemed pretty pathetic now. The dragon hadn't been that big, not as big as couple of regular Vikings stuck together, and certainly not as big as a Monstrous Nightmare, but it had been bigger than me. And the knife. What had I been thinking? Had I really expected to saw through a dragon's neck with this tiny thing?

Not like that mattered anymore.

Suddenly, I was feeling jittery, like it had finally caught up to my brain that the thing I released had been _a dragon_.

I glanced around. No one had followed me (I was pretty sure that if someone had, they would have jumped out when I stumbled upon the downed dragon). So, no one knew what I had done. They also didn't know I had taken down a Night Fury. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

Either way, it was done. I couldn't take back what I had done now.

So . . . now what? Did I go back? I didn't have to; I had enough to stay out a while. Since I hadn't known how long it would take me to find the dragon, I had brought some smoked fish. Plus, considering the regularity with which I ran off into the woods, no one would come looking for me until night. Which was great if I needed some time alone, and terrible if the Night Fury came back and wanted to eat me.

But it hadn't earlier. So maybe . . .

Nah, it probably just wasn't hungry.

I walked further away from the village. I knew this was dumb. The smart thing to do was to head back to Berk. I just . . . I couldn't. Even if they didn't know I had released the Night Fury, I still had. And now I was realizing just how badly I had screwed up. No one would ever talk to me again if they knew. Especially Dad.

Wow, this entire situation was just _fantastic_.

So, I wandered around for a bit. Didn't find any other dragons, which was a _really_ good thing. But I did find this valley, although I don't think valley was the proper word for this. The walls of this place were cliffs, like Odin had reached down and tore a chunk out of the ground. Otherwise, the valley . . . cove thing was pretty unremarkable.

Except for this tiny little detail:

The Night Fury was flying around in it.

A gasp slipped out between my lips. I scurried over to the edge of the cliff, dropping down to my knees, and peered over its edge. The Night Fury didn't notice I was there. It was too busy circling a small body of water within the confines of the cove. At first, I had no idea what it was doing. Then its wings folded in, and it dove straight down into the water, re-emerging afterwards with a fish in its jaws.

"Whoa . . ."

Honestly, the dragon itself deserved that. It wasn't like the other dragons with their rough bumps and scales; the Night Fury had a very sleek appearance. I couldn't even tell if it _had_ scales. If it did, then the edges blended perfectly into its black body, so that they all appeared to be one giant piece.

The dragon tossed its head back, throwing the fish high into the air, before catching it again and swallowing it with ease. A big tongue wiped its lips clean, and then two massive wings stretched out on either side of the dragon as it eyed the water again.

I frowned. It seemed to have no trouble getting food on its own, so why did it keep invading a village filled with angry, violent Vikings? Then again, we hadn't been much of a challenge to it, until now. Maybe now it would leave us alone.

I watched the Night Fury catch a couple more fish, and then decided to head back. Smiling to myself, I pushed myself back up to my feet –

My foot slipped, knocking a rock off the edge.

The rock seemed to fall in slow motion. All I could do was watch, my mouth open in a silent scream, as it plunged down towards the ground below.

The rock hit.

The Night Fury went still.

Time stopped. Nothing moved. I couldn't even hear my own heartbeat. Meanwhile, the Night Fury was down below, very still, very much alert.

When the dragon spun around to face the rock, I inched backwards into the bushes. Okay, it hadn't seen me yet. Otherwise, I would be dead. Yeah, it was that simple. Thankfully, it seemed to be much more interested in the rock –

It looked up.

_It looked up._

Its wings snapped open.

I screamed. The dragon _shrieked_. I don't know what it did next, because I was a little preoccupied with _running for my life_.

Branches kept slapping me as I ran. Likewise, brambles, bushes and all the lovely, thorny foliage native to Berk seemed to have no other goal in mind apart from tearing me to pieces. The ground, too, was rough. My shoes bore the brunt of it, but occasionally, I'd feel a particularly hard bit through my soles. Of course, I must add that all of that combined was preferable to being caught by an angry Night Fury.

Speaking of which, where was it? I hadn't seen it since I started running. Maybe it hadn't followed me? I was in a dense forest after all, and dragons were clearly meant to be in the sky –

Wait, what was that? I could have sworn I saw . . .

Yep. There it was again.

There was definitely a Night Fury circling me.

Still running, I stared at the treetops. Through the branches and leaves, I could see a flash of black, otherwise known as the (very fast) Night Fury. I tried to think of some clever plan, tried to map out some route of escape, but I was coming up with nothing. It didn't help that, back at Berk, whenever someone asked about fighting a Night Fury, all Gobber and Dad would say was that there was no winning against a Night Fury. They were fast, they were smart, they were strong . . .

And they never, ever missed.

The whole ground shook as the dragon landed in front of me, far enough away that it couldn't eat me yet, but close enough that it would be silly to run. I'd always thought that the Night Fury would have yellow eyes, like a hawk, or a snake. This Night Fury, however, had green ones. Not that it made things any better.

It stood very firmly between me and home, wings half open, tail held out behind it, looking very, very big. It _really_ didn't look happy, but it wasn't attacking. Yet.

"Uh, nice dragon? Good dragon?" I backed away slowly. "I'll just be on my way . . ."

The dragon snarled.

"Okay. Oookay. Just stay calm . . ."

I went through my pockets. Uh, let's see, I had the paper with my calculations . . . that would just be fodder for the dragon's flames. I also had a knife . . .

The moment I pulled that out, the dragon snarled again. Louder. And this time, I saw teeth.

"Okay, putting that away!"

I tried to hide it back in my vest, but my fingers were shaking, I fumbled at the last moment. The knife fell forwards, and before I could anything more than look at it, the dragon swept forwards, and kicked it away.

I swallowed hard. The only other thing I had was my lunch.

"Uh, you hungry?" I asked. I dangled a strip of smoked fish in front of me. "Because I hear fish taste _way_ better than a skinny human like me."

The dragon, still baring its teeth, stalked closer. At this point, I couldn't tell whether it was eyeing the fish, or my arm. And . . . and _okay it was way too close_. I could actually feelit _breathing_ on my hand.

And then it actually touched my hand. I jumped with a small yelp, and the fish slipped from my stiff fingers. The dragon followed it down, and before I could blink, gobbled it up.

It looked back at me. It licked its lips.

It blinked.

It growled.

"Wait, wait!" I shouted, backpedalling frantically. "I got more!"

I threw another strip behind the dragon, and it immediately spun around. Taking advantage of that, I took off for home.

I ran for about half a minute before I heard the dragon screech. Now, a regular dragon screeching is scary enough. A Night Fury screeching? _Terrifying._

I immediately dove to the ground, arms over my head, just waiting to for heat to lick at my back, or to crumble into a pile of ash. It didn't happened though. There was definitely no heat; if anything, the sweat all over my body made me cold. Then, something cracked as the Night Fury landed on the trunk of a broken tree.

It was staring right at me.

"Come on, come on . . ." My fingers were shaking so much, I nearly tore my vest in half. But finally, I managed to grab more fish, just in time. With all the strength I could muster, I flung it far into the forest, and the dragon took off in that direction.

I got further this time. A _lot_ further before the dragon came back. This time, I looked inside my vest without breaking stride, reached for the fish . . .

There was none.

It hit me. That last chunk I had thrown, it had been the _entire thing_.

Before I could think, the dragon landed in front of me, cutting off my escape again. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other. Then it came closer, closer –

And went still. The dragon glanced backwards.

Then it took off into the sky.

"What . . .?"I stared dumbly after it. Even when I started walking home, I kept staring at the sky.

About a minute later, I walked into a group of Vikings, and then I understood. The Night Fury must have heard them and so, it fled, leaving me happily alive.

I sighed. At least the worst was behind me.

* * *

" . . . dragon training starts tomorrow. See you there, lad!"

I already knew that from Dad, but Gobber's words hit me like a rock. A very big rock. Gobber didn't notice my reaction though, and smiled in a way that was probably meant to be friendly, but just ended up being creepy. Then, he limped away, probably to tell the other, much more deserving teens that they were also about to start dragon training. Teens that I would be training with; teens who also hated me.

Just what I had always wanted


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed, and so did the dragon classes. We all stumbled out of the arena, damp and smelly. I had a nasty bruise on my right arm, courtesy of when today’s specimen - a charming, plump Gronckle – had caught me with its tail. Apart from me, there was Astrid, who was entirely intact; then Fishlegs, whose helmet had a wonderful dent in it; Snotlout, who was still rubbing his sore back; and Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who were arguing over whose fault it was for getting taken out within the first three minutes.

So, in other words, we did pretty well today.

“Well, that was fun,” I said. “What should we do now?”

The reaction was almost instantaneous. All heads turned in my direction and of the five bodies they were attached to, three immediately moved away from me. At least Ruffnut and Tuffnut were quiet about it. Snotlout took a giant step, complete with his own little, “Whoa!”

“Uh, something wrong?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know what their problem was. I think I pulled it off; I had lots of practice.

Snotlout grinned. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he said, “As much as I would love to hang out, I got things to do. Right, Tuffnut?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tuffnut said. He nudged his sister. “In fact, we have to go with him!”

“See you later!” Ruffnut called. She, Tuffnut and Snotlout ran off, doing a rather poor job at hiding their snickers.

“So . . .” I turned to the other two. “Just us, then?”

“Just you two,” Astrid said coldly. With that, she hoisted her axe onto her shoulder and walked off. I didn’t dare follow her.

I looked hopefully at the last person here. “Fishlegs?”

Fishlegs shuffled his feet nervously as he wrung his hands together. “Sorry, Hiccup, but I told my dad I would . . .”

I waved him off. “It’s fine. Maybe next time?”

“Maybe next time,” he whispered.

I watched him leave, and sighed. Other than Fishlegs, Gobber was the only person who actually liked having me around, and he and Dad were currently off a mission to ‘wean me off the forge’, as Dad put it. Which meant I was on my own. Again. But it’s not like I’m not used to that either.

I wandered off into the forest (the village could get so stuffy sometimes), but not before sneaking into the smokehouse to steal some fish. See, along with being forced into dragon training against my will, these days, I’m chased through the woods by a (or rather, _the_ ) Night Fury every so often. It hasn’t eaten me so far, but that’s because I take some food along as a kind of peace treaty. The kind of peace treaty that you throw really far so that you can run to safety. But it’s worked so far, so I can’t complain. The smart option would be to stay in the village but sometimes . . . sometimes I just need to not be around other people.

I hopped onto a log, and held my arms out for balance as I walked down it. The sun was out, and a ray of it fell through the leaves to blind me. All that made me think of was the sun, which made me think of the sky, which made me think of . . . the dragon. I did the math in my head: if the Night Fury was following a regular pattern, then it should be showing up sometime today or tomorrow.

I was so busy looking up at the sky that I nearly fell off the log. I moved back just in time to avoid the edge . . . only to slip on a patch of moss and land flat on my back. Once there, I didn’t really feel a need to get up again. I just laid there, eyes skyward.

The seconds ticked by, and my brain was screaming that this was stupid because a dragon was due to come by any minute now. My body, however, appeared to disagree. Either way, I stayed where I was. Bored. Tired. The tiniest bit excitement.

I sat up and brushed off my clothes, pondering that fluttering in my stomach. Was I actually looking forward to seeing the dragon? I mean, apart from the whole risk of dying thing, it was exciting. Except, you know, for the whole risk of dying thing.

“I really need to get a hobby.”

No sooner than I said that, Snotlout crashed through the bush. Two seconds later, Ruffnut and Tuffnut tumbled out to stand beside him.

“Oh, hey, it’s all of you guys,” I said warily. These three together in front of me? Yeah, usually not a good sign.

“Hey, Hiccup the Useless. Didn’t expect to see you out here,” Snotlout said.

“Really?” I said, carefully backing away. “I didn’t expect to see you here either, so that makes us even, right? I’ll just be leaving . . .”

I didn’t miss the way Ruffnut and Tuffnut were circling me. They were like a wolf pack, and Snotlout was in charge. He was standing in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, chin thrust out, you know, that sort of thing.

“Nice seeing you?” I squeaked.

On some telepathic, twin signal, Ruffnut and Tuffnut charged. I felt their hands squeezed around my upper arms and then the ground vanished from under me. There was split second of dizzyingly free-fall, then I slammed to the ground, and an elbow in my stomach forced out any air in my lungs. I stayed still. Even if it had just been one of them pinning me, the chances of me fighting them off were absolutely zero.

Then . . .

“Whoa! What was that?” Tuffnut reeled back. A beat passed, and then he grabbed the fish I had hidden in my vest, and held up it.

“Uh, what is that?” Ruffnut said.

“Fish,” I said dully.

“I can see that, idiot!” Ruffnut snapped. “What’s it for?”

“Probably so he won’t stink so much,” Snotlout said.

I sighed as the three of them guffawed. At least the fish had distracted them from attacking me. Once they stopped, they didn’t usually start again.

Tuffnut groaned. “Come on, this is a waste of time. Let’s get out of here.”

As the three of them ran off, I called after them, “Thank you for apologizing!”

I wanted to kick something hard. Knowing me though, I’d probably stub my toe. So, I compromised by kicking around some things that couldn’t possibly hurt me, like twigs, and leaves, and a couple of pebbles. It didn’t do much to make me feel better, but it did tire me out a bit.

I collapsed onto the log, chin in my hands. Sometimes, I –

 _Thump_.

I took a shaky breath.

Show time.

“I’ve been wondering where you were.” I very, very carefully stood up and turned around. Yep, there it was: the Night Fury. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me.”

The dragon’s lips curled back and its mouth opened. For a second, I completely forgot how dangerous it was because it had no teeth. Not to say it was the lack of teeth itself that stunned me, but more so that every other time I had seen the dragon, it had appeared to have teeth. Had I been imagining things? Maybe it was an illusion created by the dragon?

“Toothless, huh?” I said. “I could have sworn you had teeth.”

I realized then that Toothless was the closest thing to a title I had given the dragon, other than _the_ Night Fury. I guess it was as good a name as any. Besides, it’s not like the dragon – uh, Toothless – understood what I was saying. Speaking of which, I still hadn’t assigned a gender to the dragon. My automatic reflex was to call Toothless a male, mainly because the way he bullied and chased me around reminded me of Snotlout.

Anyways, Toothless was currently staring at me very, very intensely. His spine was arched a bit, like a big cat before it pounced. And unfortunately, apart from me, there was nothing else for him to pounce upon.

“Alright, you just stay there, and I’ll get you some delicious . . .”

Wait, the fish. Where was it?

I searched inside my pockets. Then inside my vest. Then everywhere, turning frantically in circles as I rifled through every conceivable hiding place.

Then I remembered:

Tuffnut had took it.

I was so dead.

My back to Toothless, breathing so hard I might have been running a marathon, I stared at my empty hands. I wiped them on my pants, swallowed hard, and then turned around to meet my doom.

Toothless had gotten impatient. While I had been looking for my stolen food, Toothless had taken the chance to get closer to me. There was about a yard between us now, and even that was steadily decreasing.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” I mumbled, “I don’t have anything.”

Toothless didn’t slow down. Faced with that, there was only one thing I could do:

The terrible shriek rang through the air. I didn’t even need to look back: I could hear Toothless’s paws slapping against the ground. Judging by the lack of crashes, Night Furies were _much_ more agile on the ground than I had thought. It was a shame I wasn’t going to be able to tell anyone since _I was about to die!_

Suddenly, my whole body jerked back. A cloud of warm, humid air trickled down my spine. My bones began to tremble, not only from fear, but from the rumbles of a growl.

Toothless had my shirt in his mouth.

I closed my eyes. “Dear Odin, let –”

My prayer was squashed when he threw me onto my back. Then, as if looking to make sure I couldn’t speak, he stepped on me. Right on my chest. I swore I could feel my ribs bend under the weight.

My vision was filled with black. The edges of Toothless’s head were traced with blinding light. I could just barely make out his green eyes.

This was it. I was going to die.

And to think I had been the one to set this dragon free.

I winced as scales roughly brushed against my cheek. Toothless was sniffing, and sniffing, and sniffing some more. Maybe he was trying to figure out what part of me was tastiest. He seemed especially interested in my chest, and I had no idea if that was a good or bad thing.

I was lifted off the ground for an instant. Then again. Toothless had hold of my vest. Maybe, maybe if I was sneaky, I could . . .

As Toothless continued to play around with my vest, I managed to free one arm. That left one more, and that would be easy to free. It was what would happen afterwards that was the problem.

Not like I had many options though.

I braced myself. Here goes . . .

In one graceful move, I pulled out of my vest and rolled free, clambering to my feet in a not-so-graceful move. I ran about ten steps before I noticed something:

Toothless didn’t care. He was still sniffing my vest. As I watched, his tongue suddenly flicked out and licked the leather.

“What are you . . .?” Just then, an unbelievable possibility dawned on me. “Are you looking for the fish?”

It was entirely possible. Dragons had a great sense of smell. Maybe Toothless could smell that I originally had food with me. But then that would mean . . . that would mean Toothless hadn’t really been attacking me. Toothless had just been trying to steal my food (well, his food technically, I guess).

Finally, Toothless gave up and stared at me. Maybe it was just my imagination, but he didn’t seem as angry as before.

I held my open hands up. “Sorry bud, I don’t have anything.”

Toothless glanced at the vest. He glanced at me.

He pounced.

As I fell backwards, I held my breath, just waiting for Toothless to crush me again. This time, however, Toothless didn’t land on me. His paws went on either side of my chest instead, and it was only his snout that touched me as he started sniffing again. I watched him, and it finally occurred to me that the spots Toothless was so insistent on checking were the same places that the fish had touched my clothes.

“You really are just looking for a handout,” I said with wonder.

Toothless huffed. He suddenly laid his head on my chest, pinning me.

Well, this didn’t look good.

Toothless’s throat was splayed across my abdomen, and I could feel it going through some sort of contractions. Maybe he was preparing to breathe fire? Before the gravity of that thought could get a hold, his mouth suddenly opened and something slimy slid out onto my face.

I picked it off and wiped myself clean. The thing Toothless had spat up, it was half a fish?

The weight vanished. Toothless went all the way back and sat on his hind legs, almost like how a person would sit. I picked up the fish and stared at it uncertainly. What, had the smell of me made him sick or something?

Toothless smacked his lips.

I blinked. “What?”

With his chin, Toothless actually gestured to the fish, then at me. Then smacked his lips again.

My mouth dropped open. “You want me to . . .?”

Toothless smacked his lips.

I stared down at the very whole, very raw fish. I can’t believe I was about to do this.

But I guess it beat getting eaten by a dragon.

It tasted . . . fishy. I could almost pretend that it was just a regularly cooked fish, except it was _way_ too slimy. Plus, it was cold enough to know that it hadn’t been roasted over a roaring fire, and also warm enough to remind me that this thing had come out of a dragon’s mouth. Still, somehow, I managed to swallow a mouthful with a shudder.

I glared at him. “Happy?”

He made a weird crooning noise. Then, still on his hind legs, he took a few steps backwards.

And he took off.

I . . . I couldn’t . . . what . . .?

What just happened?


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, this was it. Based on my observations, Toothless seemed to show up every four days, and this time? This time I would be ready for him.

I snuck away from the other kids (which, seeing as they didn’t want me there in the first place, was pretty easy), then found myself a nice clearing and waited. If Toothless could find me in the middle of the forest, he should have no trouble finding me here.

“Where are you?” I said into the wind. It answered by tickling my face.

Then, the wind seemed to pick up by the tree to my right. The leaves rustled violently, and the tops bent over a little. I stood up, knowing that it had nothing to do with the air, but rather a very fast dragon racing by them.

“Come on . . .”

Toothless slammed down in front of me.

“. . . found you.”

Just like last time, he started to growl. He had his wings held up in that arch where they weren’t really open, but weren’t really closed either. Unlike last time, I wasn’t scared. Not that much.

Okay, yeah, maybe I was freaked out a little.

“Okay, so you’re just here for food, right?” I asked, standing my ground as Toothless slithered closer to me. “And I seem to recall that you enjoy fish.”

I slid out a fish from underneath my vest. Toothless immediately stopped growling. The flaps on his head went straight up, kind of like a dog’s ears when it heard something.

I think I understood. All those times Toothless had growled at me before, it wasn’t because he was mad at me; he was just smart enough to notice that when he growled, I usually threw food at him. It still didn’t explain why he had vomited on me last time, but it was a start.

Toothless lunged, and I barely pulled the fish – and my hand – out of the way.

“Whoa!” I held my free hand right in front of Toothless’s face. “I’m not going to just give it to you.”

Toothless growled and tried to get around my arm.

“Uh, no. You’re going to have to work for it. See this?” I pulled a fruit out of my pocket and bounced it on my palm. “This is something I like to eat, and –”

And he was gone. I guess he got bored.

I tossed the fruit away. That sure went well.

I’d just reached the edge of the clearing when Toothless returned.

“Oh, you’re back, and what . . . what are you doing?”

Hindquarters wiggling, Toothless had crawled until he was right in front of me. He kept switching between staring at me, and at my vest. Uncertainly, I held my hand out. My fingers curled open –

And Toothless spat up a fruit – the exact same kind I had shown him – into my palm.

I couldn’t believe it. Toothless had understood me. Easily, too! Now, he sat back on his hind legs again, waiting.

He smacked his lips.

“Oh, right!” I hurriedly held out the fish as far away from my body as I could manage. His toothless maw creaked open.

Then, teeth slid out from the gums into place, and he snatched the fish out of my hands.

Guess he did have teeth after all.

In my opinion, the way Toothless swallowed, closed his eyes in bliss, and licked his lips again was exaggerated. One eye opened, finding my face quickly. Then the second opened, too, and Toothless patiently sat on all fours. Before I could say anything, he hacked up another fruit.

“Sorry, bud, I only had one.” I rubbed the back of my neck, unfortunately with the same hand I had used to receive the fruit. Which meant I now had a slobbery layer of dragon spit on my neck. Great.

Apparently, Toothless didn’t believe me. He sniffed me, then forced his head between my vest and shirt. Finally, once he had determined that there was nowhere I could be hiding food, he groaned and walked away.

Yep, that was Toothless all right: losing interest the second I didn’t have anything to give him.

He coughed up another six or seven fruit onto the ground, shaking himself afterwards with a shudder.

“You don’t like them, do you?” I asked. Toothless had no idea what I was saying, so he just started to lick his paw. Seeing that, I figured he wouldn’t mind if I took them . . .

Nope, never mind. The moment I had reached for one, Toothless had put his foot down (literally and figuratively). He didn’t want them, but he wasn’t about to let me grab one without giving him a fish.

“You know,” I said, “I could always just come back later. Even the great Night Fury can’t spend all his time guarding a pile of fruit . . . and you don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?”

Toothless yawned. He curled up around the fruit and laid down, his tail separating me from his head.

It was the first time I had gotten a good look at his tail. There were actually two sets of fins: one at the base of the tail, and one right below where the webbing of the wings attached to his body. Curious, I reached out to touch it. It was smoother than I thought –

Black spots danced in front of my eye.

My entire face felt raw, like someone had dumped painfully cold water on it. There was a sharp pang in the back of my head, too, which throbbed to the same rhythm as my heartbeat. At least my limbs seemed to be working.

I had no idea what had happened, not until I noticed that while, before, I had been right next to Toothless, now I was halfway across the clearing. That and Toothless looked _mad_.

“Sorry, sorry! Got it, no touching. Won’t do it again! Promise.”

Toothless cleared about half the distance between us, then huffed and stopped. We held our position for a few seconds more, then he suddenly hopped back, and landed right on the fruit. As I watched, he stomped them to a pulp, then gave me a smug look.

“Was that really necessary?”

Toothless made this weird sound that was a cross between coughing and laughing. Then he flew off.

I rolled my eyes.

What a drama queen.


	5. Chapter 5

The shrill, wobbly whistle I heard was the kind of noise that a tortured deer would make. As it further increased in pitch, a flock of panicked birds burst into the air and fled, probably to somewhere far, far away. There was a moment of peace, and then the sound came again, nearly destroying my hearing.

Then, quiet. Fishlegs lowered his hands from his mouth and said, “Not very dragon-like, huh?”

“You think?” I whacked the side of my head, trying to get rid of the ringing. “I bet you could probably chase off a few with that.”

“Maybe.” Fishlegs looked at his homemade whistle uncertainly.

“Hey, at least we know what doesn’t work,” I pointed out.

“Yeah.” He plucked idly at the tall grass around us. “I’m starting to think this is waste of time.”

I sighed. “Dragons don’t make anything easy.”

Despite the conclusion we just reached, we still tried to fashion a grass dragoncall until the others stumbled upon us. Then, as you can predict, things quickly went downhill.

“What’s up, losers?” Tuffnut sneered.

“Hey, Tuffnut.” I said, letting his taunt roll off me. “We’re just trying to make some dragoncalls.”

Snotlout and Tuffnut started snickering, only to be whacked on the head by Astrid. She gave them an exasperated, almost annoyed look, and then walked forwards, cool and collected as always. Behind her followed Ruffnut, who stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“You’re making _dragoncalls_?” Astrid asked me.

“Uh, kind of . . .” I tried to judge her reaction before giving a definite answer.

There was a pause before she asked, “Do they work?”

Fishlegs piped up. “Not yet, but we think we have a dragon repellent!”

He lifted his whistle to his mouth –

“No!” I slapped my hand over his mouth. “Uh, we might need to work on it a little more before we give a demonstration.”

With my hand smothering him, the only sound he could make was gibberish. I smiled at him.

“Right,” Astrid said. “You know, Hiccup, you might want to learn how to fight dragons before you try luring them in.”

I winced as the others (except Fishlegs) started jeering. Normally, I could have shaken it off, but it was always worse when Astrid was the one insulting me because, well, because she was Astrid, but also because I wasn’t always sure whether she meant to insult me. Of course, in the eyes of Snotlout and the twins, she definitely did.

Astrid sighed. “Come on, guys, let’s go. And before I forget, your dad wants you, Fishlegs.”

“Oh!” Fishlegs scrambled to his feet. “Uh, I’ll see you later, Hiccup!”

“Sure,” I said, waving him off.

Everyone else left, too. That meant I was alone.

I tiptoed over to the center of the field, and pulled out a sack. Thanks to the insanely tall grass, Snotlout hadn’t noticed it was there. Inside wasn’t anything too impressive – just a bunch of fish – but if Snotlout or even Astrid had looked inside, it would have led to some awkward questions.

I made my way over to the cove where I had first found Toothless after I released him. We’d fallen into a bit of a pattern over the days, and the cove was our unofficial meeting spot.

You know, it was weird thinking about it. I mean, the fact that I was heading for a rendezvous with a Night Fury was pretty fantastic, but to think that we met often enough that we actually had a meeting place? No one would believe me if I told them. Vikings were supposed to kill dragons, and yet somehow, Toothless and I had happened.

Anyways, I was lying on the cove’s ground, twirling a flower between my fingers, when Toothless arrived. I didn’t even sit up, just waved and said, “Hey, Toothless.”

Toothless gurgled, and trotted up to me.

“Alright, I got seven today. Understand? _Seven_.” I held up seven fingers, and Toothless dutifully studied them, working out the number for himself. Once he had, he backed up, and then took off, returning a few minutes later.

Just as I had promised him, we exchanged seven fruit for seven fish. Toothless swallowed them whole, crooning with contentment afterwards. Then, he looked at me hopefully.

“I told you, only seven,” I said. I rifled through my pockets, finding some leftover grass from earlier. “See? This is all I have left.”

Naturally, Toothless had to sniff my hand to make sure I wasn’t lying. I let him, scanning the area around –

Toothless started to purr.

I blinked, surprised. I started to pull my hand away –

Toothless jumped forwards, nearly knocking me over (remember that no touching rule? Yep, only applied to me touching him). He rubbed the back of his head against my hand, twisting until he fell onto his back. His paws flailing in the air, he tried, on his back, to lick the grass in my hand, or at least graze it with his teeth.

“Toothless, it’s just grass!”

I put the grass back in my pocket, and Toothless cried out. He rolled back to his feet, bouncing on them like the ground was on fire. Then, he flew off again, returning soon after not just with some fruit, but _an entire branch of them_.

Stunned, I said, “Wow. You really want this.”

I let the grass fall. Toothless was right on them. Even though there were only a few blades, he still insisted on rolling around in them.

“You know,” I said, “if you like it that much, why don’t I just show you where I found them?”

Toothless didn’t understand me, so I crept close to him, and managed to snatch the grass back. Then, with him alternatively crooning and growling at me, I slowly led him back to the grass’s natural habitat.

He was ecstatic.

At first, I think he was in shock. He just stared at the field, ears straight up. I had to coax him forward. Then, it’s like his energy exploded. One moment he was next to me, the next, he was diving right into the field, frolicking like a child who had just discovered snow. He went down and rolled around in it, making visible circles.

I laughed, and walked up to where Toothless was rubbing his face in the grass. He purred, looking up at me with eyes that looked half-asleep.

I bent over. “Enjoying yourself?”

Toothless seemed to consider my words.

Then he reached up and _grabbed_ me.

He pulled me down into the grass with him, so that my back was against his chest, and started hugging the top of my head with his chin. I was willing to bet this was his way of saying thank you. Of course, the gesture nearly lost its goodwill when Toothless almost rolled on top of me! It was a good thing I was quick.

He got my legs, though. Now, he was lying across them, giving me no opportunity to stand. I could feel him trying to grind himself into the ground (and consequently, my shins), and his head pressed into my stomach. More out of instinct than anything, I scratched him behind the ears.

He went still. Then, he pressed further against me, clearly enjoying himself.

I smiled. “You’re just like a giant cat, aren’t you?”

He rumbled happily.

We played there (with Toothless constantly tripping over his own feet) until my stomach started to growl. At that point, Toothless vomited half a fish into my lap.

I pushed it towards him. “No thanks. You can have it.”

Brushing the grass off my clothes, I stood and walked towards the village. Behind me, Toothless was warbling. Apparently, he still didn’t quite understand that I couldn’t speak dragon.

A nudge from behind. Toothless was driving his snout into my legs.

My heels left the ground as Toothless became more insistent. Then the balls of my feet. Then my toes. Suddenly, I found myself sitting on his head. Toothless quickly pointed that upwards, effectively dropping me onto his back.

I twisted around to a sitting position. “Are you giving me a ride?”

Toothless made his happy noises. He walked out of the field –

Right into a tree.

He took a step back, as if he hadn’t noticed it was there before. He laughed a bit, then weaved his way around it, still unsteady.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked.

Toothless purred.

His gait evened out as the time went on. Once it did, however, he stopped walking towards the village. So, I nudged him with my heels.

He went stiff. His head turned slowly, and his eyes went very wide.

I think he forgot I was there.

Within a second, I was thrown off and Toothless was running off in a panic. My arm hurt a little from where I had landed on it.

Worth it.


	6. Chapter 6

Today, I discovered Toothless hates eels. I had brought him one for part of our usual trade deal, but he had freaked out when I presented it to him. Why Toothless is so afraid of eels, I still don’t know. But it might be useful in the long run.

Anyways, I had taken the eel back and tossed it into the Zippleback’s chow (Waste not, as Gobber likes to say) and to make up for the eel I had brought him, I was fishing in one of the inland rivers, far from the village. I’d been alone at first, but then Toothless had decided to show up and give me company.

It was nice of him, but catching these fish would probably be a lot easier without him around.

“Toothless, quit it!” I whined as he snapped at the tip of my rod.

Toothless ignored me. He went down into what I call his hunting crouch, and proceeded to swat at the rod.

“Alright, fine. Here, take it.” I took the hook off, and then tossed it to him. “Go hungry.”

Toothless happily pounced on the rod, then did nothing. Now that I wasn’t holding it, it seemed like he had lost interest.

I swear, sometimes Toothless was just trying to annoy me.

“You realize I was doing that for you, right?”

Toothless huffed. He poked me, and then jumped back a few inches like I had spooked him.

I stared. “What are you doing?”

He was down in a crouch, standing sideways, making that little coughing-laughing sound of his. I immediately checked my clothes, but they didn’t appear to be ripped. And my fishing rod was intact.

“Toothless . . .”

When I stepped towards him, he ran in the opposite direction. A second later, he was back, bouncing on his feet. He half-lunged at me, then spun around, charged that way again, and _then_ came back again.

I gave him a look.

Toothless crawled up to me. He was ‘laughing’ more insistently now, weaving around me so quick I began to get dizzy.

I stepped out of his circle. “You’re crazy.”

He nipped my leg.

I jumped. “You crazy reptile!”

Toothless slipped away from my grasp. He hadn’t bitten me hard, but that wasn’t the point. With my leg having stopped aching, I made a grab for him. He slipped away again, laughing.

I stopped short. I . . . think I was starting to understand. Toothless wanted me to chase him.

“Is that it? You want to play?” Hands on my knees, I stared Toothless in the eye. “Alright, I’m coming for you.”

Toothless understood. His ears went up, and then he ran for the trees, me right on his heels. Or, that’s where I was trying to be. Toothless was pretty quick, although he was slowing down for me.

I’d never played tag with a dragon before. Honestly, I hardly ever play regular tag. I am, however, well acquainted with ‘ _run away from the person chasing me_ ’, which served me well in this game. Dragon tag, it turns out, doesn’t have a designated chaser. Sure, I spent most of the time chasing Toothless around, but sometimes, with no clear reason why, he’d turn around and rush me. Whenever that happened, I would turn and just run as fast as I could, until I realized he was no longer chasing me.

“Oh, Toothless!” I called, stretching the vowel out. I tiptoed through the undergrowth, searching for any sign of black scales. Dragon tag apparently involved a lot of hiding too, and ambushes from a playful Night Fury.

 _Rustle_.

Smiling, I looked up. Toothless was perched on a branch above me.

He jumped.

“ _Argh!_ ”

My shout of pain was enough to scare him off me. He hadn’t broken anything, nothing I could feel at least, but he had landed on my stomach! Speaking of which, my stomach, just beginning to recover from being stomped on, was currently undergoing convulsions. It made a sour taste rise in my throat that I tried to spit away.

Toothless hovered above me. He looked into my eyes, and crooned.

“Please don’t do that again,” I said.

Toothless gave me space as I forced myself to sit up. Yep, that was as far as I was going. My stomach ached, and I really wasn’t feeling up to running around anymore.

He sat down in front of me. His throat began to constrict –

“Oh, no you don’t!” I slapped my hand over his mouth. “I don’t need a fish, thanks.”

He growled.

I froze for a moment. Then put my hand down. “Right, no touching.”

Right then, my stomach flipped over. Bile rose in my throat again, although, thankfully, only that. Still, I put a hand on my stomach and groaned, keeling over at the waist.

Suddenly, I saw black.

No, I wasn’t fainting. Toothless had just – literally – stuck his nose into my business. He used his head to lift mine up to its regular position, then laid his head on my lap, crooning softly. I think he finally understood he had hurt me.

Taking this as permission to touch him, I scratched behind his ears. “So, why did you show up anyways? You don’t seem to want any fish . . .” (He got excited when I mentioned fish, and I had to convince him I didn’t have any) “. . . does that mean you just wanted to play?”

It made some sort of sense. From the moment he had arrived, Toothless had been trying to steal my fishing rod.

Toothless purred as I continued to think. I was surprised, I’ll admit it. Besides eating, finding food, and raiding my village, I didn’t think dragons did much of anything. Of course, it’s not like I put much thought into the matter. Apparently, though, dragons liked to have fun, too. It made me think; we didn’t have much in the way of toys on Berk, but there were a few. Would Toothless like them?

It made me smile, to think of Toothless trying to play with a wooden ship. Toothless saw me, and slowly, his lips pulled back, revealing an oddly adorable – and toothless – imitation of my smile.

We stayed there for a while, me scratching him, him just enjoying himself . . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

I fell asleep, didn’t I?

Toothless was gone, and it was dark out. I was lucky I hadn’t been attacked by wolves or anything. Still, even though I was out in the middle of nowhere, by myself, and guaranteed to be yelled at by my dad when I got home, I was feeling pretty good. I had . . . I . . .

Hey, hold on. If me and Toothless had played together, did that make us _friends_?


	7. Chapter 7

Considering how much of my childhood had been spent there, it was only natural that Dad and Gobber couldn’t keep me out of the forge forever. Still, they had done a pretty good job of it; this was my first visit in weeks. It smelt just like I remembered: like charcoal, with that sharp, tangy undertone of molten metal. It was also still very hot; when I wiped my brow, my hand came back wet.

Exhaling deeply, I put my hammer down and rubbed my hands together. “I think that’s everything, Gobber.”

“Are the embers still burning?”

“No,” I said.

“Did you light anything on fire?”

“Surprisingly, no,” I said. “Everything’s fine to go.”

“Oh?” Gobber tapped his chin. I think he was trying to think of something I did wrong. “Oh! Did you sharpen Astrid’s axe? Wouldn’t want to forget that, eh?”

I ignored the sly note in his tone.

“That is also done.” I grabbed Astrid’s sharpened axe, and let the heel hit the ground.

Wait a second. This was Astrid’s favourite axe.

I quickly let go of it, and pretended I hadn’t touched it. Ever.

“So,” I walked up behind Gobber, hands locked behind my back, “you need anything else?”

“No, that’s everything, lad.”

“Alright, I’ll just be on my way . . .”

“Not so fast.” Before I could leave the forge, Gobber snagged the back of my shirt with his hook and pulled me back. “Hiccup, what’s going on with you?”

“I-I . . . I . . . I” I stuttered that one word over and over again. Gobber knew something was up? What was I supposed to tell him! I certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. And how did he know I was up to something, anyways? I thought I had done a fantastic job at hiding it.

Gobber’s eyes narrowed. “Spit it out, lad.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m perfectly fine, and –”

“And that’s just it!” Gobber broke into a huge grin. “You’re so _happy_ , so peppy! Reminds me of when I was a boy.”

A tad insulted, I said, “And I wasn’t before?”

“You were about as happy as a limp toadstool,” Gobber said. “But now? You’re glowing, Hiccup. I’ve never seen so much light in your eyes.”

I couldn’t myself from smiling. “Yeah, well, I’ve been having a good week.”

“Finally getting along with the other teens, are you?” Gobber put his arm around my shoulder, hobbling beside me as I walked out of the forge. “See, I knew this dragon training business was a good idea.”

I snorted. Poor Gobber had no idea that dragon training was the worst thing that ever happened to me. “Yep. Real good.”

“It’s a good thing I told your Dad so, eh?” Gobber winked, nudging my shoulder. “Otherwise you’d still be in there grinding down swords by your lonesome.”

I laughed.

Then, it hit me.

“Hold up, did you . . . did you talk my dad into letting me train with the others?”

“I sure did!” Gobber said proudly. “And look at the good it’s done.”

Something heavy dropped into my stomach. The gentle warmth from the forge that had clung to me suddenly vanished, replaced by the bitter cold of the night air. I shivered, rubbed my arms, accidentally (or maybe deliberately) wriggling free of Gobber’s arm.

“Oh. Uh, that’s great.” I managed a crooked smile. “Well, thanks for talking to him.”

“Something wrong, Hiccup?”

“No! Nothing’s wrong.” I looked down as I suddenly noticed the intensity of his stare. “I just thought that, well . . . that Dad made that decision on his own.”

Silence. Seeing that I was staring at the ground, I couldn’t see Gobber’s reaction. I felt him, however, squeeze my shoulder.

“He’ll come around,” Gobber said. “Once you start slaying those dragons, he won’t be able to stop talking about you!”

I swallowed hard. “Once I start killing dragons.”

“That’s right! Now, how about we see that joy again?” Gobber stuck his finger into my face, forcefully stretching my mouth into a rough smile. “Don’t you worry, Hiccup. Fighting dragons is easy! Soon, you’ll dragging home corpses larger than your Dad!”

I know Gobber was trying to comfort me, but it was having the opposite effect. Every time I tried to think about killing dragons, I would see Toothless bound by rope again, helpless. Sometimes, I’d see him rolling in the grass, or trying to eat my hair.

I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I couldn’t kill dragons. Not now, not ever.

Suddenly, I heard something. It sounded like a low buzz at first, but then it got louder, sharper.

And someone blew the warning horn.

“Dragons!” Gobber shouted. He pushed me sharply from behind. “Go on, Hiccup. Grab your weapon, and let’s go make your old Dad proud!”

My legs moved automatically. Behind me, Gobber was cheering with excitement, but the only emotion I felt was dread.


	8. Chapter 8

“Move it, shortstuff!” Ruffnut barked as she pushed past me.

“Hurry up, everyone!” Gobber shouted. “Grab your weapons, and let’s get dragon fighting!”

Fighting dragons? This was my worst nightmare come true. Even though the warning horn had sounded only a couple of minutes ago, dragons had already descended on the scene. The sheep were bleating in terror, dragons and Vikings were roaring at each other, and though it all, I could still hear my pulse, painfully fast. Orange plumes were rising up among the houses, strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of the night sky. Of course, seeing as this wasn’t a picture, but the village I actually lived it, it was also terrifying.

“Come on, Hiccup!” Before I could speak, Gobber shoved an axe and shield into my arms. “You’re not going to do much just standing there.”

I rubbed the back of my head. “About that . . . You know, I’m still struggling with this whole dragon fighting stuff. Why don’t I sit this one out?”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gobber shoved me towards the battle. “You’re not chickening out on me, Hiccup.”

“I’m not chickening out!” I protested. My heels dug into the ground as I was forced forwards. “I’m just being realistic.”

Gobber spun me around.

“You’re a Viking now, Hiccup,” he said softly, yet firmly. He plopped a horned helmet onto my head. “Now, go get ‘em.”

Holding his own axe above his head, Gobber hollered and ran off to join the fray. Guess it was time to give it my all.

And by give it my all, I meant ‘hide in the shadows and hope no one saw me’. Gobber told me once that the dragons would ignore me and go after the bigger guys; now, I would find out how true that was . . .

Well, it worked for about ten minutes. It probably would have worked longer, too, only Snotlout and Astrid caught sight of me. Fortunately, they thought I was trying to get the jump on a dragon, not hiding from them; unfortunately, Astrid thought it fit to wave me over, and it’s not like I had a good reason to ignore her.

Astrid shoved me back against a wall. “There’s a Gronckle heading straight towards us. When I give the signal, we jump out and attack! Got it, Hiccup? You don’t move _until I give the signal_.”

“I hear you,” I said. I held the axe close to my body, fumbling as it nearly slid out of my hands. “Wait for the signal.”

Astrid nodded curtly. “Okay. One . . . two . . . now!”

She and Snotlout burst out, screaming. I followed, screaming what to my ears, was a very lame and dry war cry. The Gronckle shuddered visibly, confused by the noise.

“Hi-ya!” Astrid’s axe gleamed as it closed in on its prey. The Gronckle saw the blade coming just in time, and wobbled out of the way. Its mouth opened; deep inside, an orange glow lit up its throat. But then Snotlout whacked its head with his shield, and the Gronckle’s fire stopped before it could be shot.

“Don’t just stand there, Hiccup,” Snotlout yelled. “Do something!”

“Do something?” I echoed. “Right. Uh, just give me a moment . . .”

The Gronckle flew backwards, finally having enough. It started to retreat down the street.

Thank you, Odin.

“Hooray, it’s gone,” I said. “Now why don’t we go somewhere else?”

Astrid looked back at me. Her smile was vicious.

“Oh no,” she said, “this one is _not_ getting away.”

“Guys!” I shouted after them as Astrid and Snotlout chased after the Gronckle. Should I follow them? If I did, I might actually have to fight the dragon, but if I didn’t . . .

Actually, it made no difference if I didn’t. It’s not like I would be able to convince the other two to leave the dragon alone. They weren’t like me; they were real Vikings. And Vikings killed dragons.

So, I went back to hiding. Around me, Vikings thundered past, too focused on the fight to notice me. Likewise, the dragons were too focused on the hairy, screaming Vikings to make time for a toothpick like me.

Then, a giant passed into my vision.

Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, but when you’re crouched behind a barrel, then Dad does look a lot like a giant.

He was wielding a sword today (Dad was one of those Vikings who could decapitate a dragon with any kind of weapon. Even a shovel. Seriously!). I couldn’t tell if the stain on the blade was just a trick of the light, or actual blood. And I didn’t want to know.

Dad raised his sword high in the sky, pounded his chest and cried, “Alright, where are you? Come and get me, dragons!”

I whispered, “Please don’t listen to him.”

But they did. A mere second after Dad had declared his challenge, a dragon roared. I felt the building I was next to shake as _something_ landed upon it. Dad turned his eyes straight to the roof; had he looked down a little more, he would have been staring at me.

As I watched, a Monstrous Nightmare climbed off the roof and onto the ground. It and Dad circled each other, both snarling, both growling.

The Nightmare went alight. The red and yellow hues of its flames reflected in Dad’s helmet and sword, giving them a surreal colour. I could tell that Dad wasn’t scared, not in the slightest. He had complete confidence that he would slay this beast.

And I knew he was right.

_Screek!_

No. No, no, no! It can’t be; It _CAN’T_ be him -!

“NIGHT FURY!”

A cloud of purple sparks and black dust engulfed one of the watchtowers. Amidst the crackling of the flames, there were cracks and snaps as the tower collapsed.

That wasn’t the worst of it. When Dad heard the tower break, he did what anyone would do: he fought not to look back, which meant he _hesitated_. And the nightmare _saw_.

“No!”

In hindsight, Dad would have been fine without my interference. But by the time I realized that, I had already thrown my shield at the Nightmare’s head. It hit the dragon in the back leg instead, but got the job done. The Nightmare’s murderous eyes slowly turned from Dad to me, and I swore it grinned.

I stopped breathing. Dad was frozen. I might be wrong, but I think the fact that I attacked a Monstrous Nightmare had put him in a temporary coma.

Until it moved.

“HICCUP!”

I screamed and bolted as the Nightmare came after me. It was too big to fit in the streets, but it didn’t need to; it hopped from rooftop to rooftop instead, always a second behind.

Then Fishlegs poked his head out from behind a wall. “Hiccup, over here! We got a Zippleback coming!”

“ _Get out of the way_!” I screamed.

Fishlegs looked confused. Then, I saw horror spread across his face. He slipped back behind the wall, shouting, “Guys, we have a major problem!”

Moments later, Astrid peeped out. Her mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’ –

Hot air blasted my face. The ground before me exploded into heat and orange motes. My body pulled back on instinct; my arms rose to protect my face. And crumbs of rubble bounced as the dragon landed behind me.

I turned to look straight at the opening mouth of the Monstrous Nightmare.

_This was the end_. The thought bounced through my mind, numbing everything it touched, until I felt barely anything at all. I dropped the useless axe, and it landed with a resounding _clank_. I could hear Dad shouting, Astrid shouting, and other people, too. But I didn’t really care. It didn’t matter.

And there was something else I heard. A high-pitched sound, a screech . . .

“NIGHT FU –”

* * *

It was dark, and warm. And painful. Not nearly as painful as I thought being eaten by a dragon would be, but I was still in some pain. It was also . . . soft?

I groaned, and wiped the gunk out of my eyes. When they fluttered open, it was to a familiar sight: my room’s ceiling, to be exact. I sat up, and studied myself. Nothing appeared to be missing, I didn’t see any burn marks, and I could still move everything. I didn’t seem to really be injured. Did that mean I was dead?

“Oh, Hiccup? You’re awake!”

Something clattered to the ground as Dad ran to my bedside. I just stared at him, puzzled.

“What happened?” I asked.

Grimly, Dad said, “The Night Fury.”

“The Night Fury?” I shook my head wildly. “No, it can’t be . . . it couldn’t . . .”

_He wouldn’t do that to me. Would he?_

“I’m just as surprised you’re still alive as you are,” Dad said quietly.

“So, I survived a hit from a Night Fury?” I asked dubiously. _No one_ ever survived a direct attack from a Night Fury.

Dad hesitated. “Not quite. The Night Fury, it fired alright, but it didn’t hit _you_. It hit the Nightmare.”

“To- . . . The Night Fury attacked the dragon attacking me.”

“Yes,” Dad said. “The Nightmare flew off right after, but it was hurt.”

I stared at my entwined hands. “Why?”

“I . . .” Dad’s face screwed up as he thought hard. “I guess the Night Fury missed.”

Missed? But Night Furies _never_ miss. They _always_ hit their target.

And the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced Toothless _hadn’t_ missed.


	9. Chapter 9

For the first couple of days after the raid, Dad hovered. Gobber spent an excessive amount of time inquiring about my wellbeing too, but I had grown to expect that. Yep, it was definitely Dad’s attention that was out of the ordinary. I honestly had no idea how to feel about it. On one hand, it meant me and him spent an unusual amount of time together; on the other hand, I was pretty sure the reason Dad was so worried was because I wasn’t a ‘proper Viking’ and thus, he couldn’t comprehend the idea that I had shrugged off a dragon attack – even if the dragon hadn’t actually been attacking me.

Okay, getting a little whiny there. I guess, to be fair, there was some reason to worry. No one has ever survived an attack (or a pseudo-attack) by a Night Fury, or been so close to the impact site of its flame. There was no telling what the consequences could be (and yes, I had overheard Dad and Gobber discussing that very topic).

But I wasn’t sprouting wings and I had yet to feel anything beyond the spectrum of usual emotions, so I was assuming that I had nothing to worry about.

Dad finally let me out of the house on the third day. By that time, all the clean-up from the raid was done (Berk had gotten pretty fast at that over the years). So, it was like nothing had happened. At all.

Except for all the stares. Everywhere I went, I could feel stares burning into my back. When I turned around, I would lock eyes with this group of villagers or the next, and then after a few tense seconds, they would look away. That didn’t bother me. It happened _way_ too often for it to do that.

What did bother me were the feelings behind it. Usually, when people stared at me like that, the secret message was something along the lines of ‘ _Why are you here, Hiccup?’_ or ‘ _What did you do now, Hiccup?_ ’. These stares, however, were different. They were tense, cautious, fearful.

What had Dad been telling them?

When I walked into the Great Hall, I, to my _great_ joy, found all the other teens inside. Before I had entered, they had been talking freely. Now? Now, they had hushed up. They were staring at me with wide eyes, like I was some new species of dragon.

I glanced at my reflection in a bowl. Nope. Nothing on my face.

“Hey, guys,” I said. I sat down at the table with them, trying my best to give them a friendly smile.

“Hey,” Fishlegs said weakly. When I caught his eye, he turned his eyes to the tabletop instead.

Well . . . at least they hadn’t switched tables yet. They were playing the ‘ _Let’s pretend Hiccup’s not here and maybe he’ll go away’_ game. Although, it seemed a little different this time. They, all of them, kept glancing at me from time to time. And Tuffnut, while he ate, chewed a little too vigorously, a little too quickly.

“So . . . what I’d miss?” I asked.

The silence was deafening.

Snotlout turned. His face was oddly serious, and that only served to further my doubts. My cousin wasn’t exactly the sort of guy to worry about you when you were locked inside your own home.

I braced myself for the worst.

In a low voice, Snotlout asked, “How did you do it?”

I looked at him, puzzled. “Do what?”

“You know.” When I continued to stare at him, he prompted, “The Night Fury.”

“Oh. That,” I said loudly. I leaned back in my chair, putting as much space between them and me as possible without being obvious. At this point, I had no idea if they were impressed, scared, or something else entirely.

“How did you do it?” Snotlout repeated. “How did you survive?”

“Uh, well, it didn’t actually hit me,” I told them truthfully. “I guess it just missed.”

“Night Furies don’t miss,” Fishlegs said quietly.

My voice rose a little. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m just so small it didn’t see me.”

“But why would it attack the Nightmare?” Astrid pressed, leaning closer to me. She didn’t have her axe, but she was just as intimidating as always.

“I don’t know!” I jumped to my feet, making the other flinch back in alarm. “I don’t know, okay?”

None of them said anything. It was pretty obvious they didn’t believe me.

I stormed out of the Great Hall. Not that that put an end to the stares. I tugged at my hair, opening my mouth in preparation for an exasperated scream, when I saw other Vikings watching me.

Furious, I demanded, “Can I help you?”

In hindsight, yelling at them wasn’t a very good idea, since it’s basically inscribed in the heart of all Vikings that violence should be met with violence. Luckily, save for a slight hardening of their eyes, they didn’t react much to what could have seen as an act of aggression.

Yeah, I needed to get out of here before something bad happened.

I shoved my way into the forest, just wanting to get away from all the stares. And just when I thought I had, just when I got far enough away from the village that I could finally breathe, guess who decided to show up.

He perched in front of me, staring.

“You, too?”

Toothless growled. He circled me, hissing the entire time.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me! This is _your_ fault.” Toothless started forwards, but I bopped him on the nose and said, “Uh, yes it is. If you and your friends hadn’t been attacking us, last night wouldn’t have happened.”

Toothless stood on his hind legs and screeched into my face.

“Stop yelling at me!”

Toothless screeched back.

I threw my hands up. “And I’m done here!”

I tried to calmly walk away, but Toothless wasn’t having that. He stalked after me, continuing to yowl and hiss, until the sounds started to blur.

“Why are you so mad at me?” I spun around, annoyed. “I’m the one who should be angry. Thanks to you, everyone is treating me like . . . like . . . worse than before.”

Toothless yowled.

I scowled. “Forget it. Even Berk is better than this.”

I stomped back towards the village, eager to leave Toothless and his complaining behind. Toothless growled as I passed him, raising his wings in a threat display, but I didn’t care. He could have talked, and I wouldn’t have turned back for that.

Then, he grabbed me.

By the hair.

“TOOTHLESS!” It hurt a lot less than I expected it would, but being yanked back by my hair was still painful. I cried out; Toothless released me, then grabbed my shirt. One last tug, and then I was on my back.

He sat on me.

“Stupid dragon,” I muttered. Surprisingly, it didn’t really hurt. There was just a lot of pressure, and it wasn’t so easy to breathe. I tried to wriggle free, getting nowhere. Toothless watched me, looking bored. He lay down, still on top of me.

“I . . . I don’t believe this!” Dirt clotted under my nails as I tried to pull myself free. Failing that, I tried to shove him off, but he wasn’t budging. “You . . . argh . . . useless reptile! Come on, _move_.”

Toothless yawned.

I pushed. I shouted. I cursed. I screamed. Eventually though, my arms began to ache, and there was a dull burn in my throat. I went limp, half-heartedly glaring at the overgrown lizard atop me. He wasn’t going to move until he felt like it.

I sighed. “So, we’ll just sit here. Great. I would have thought you had better things to do.”

Toothless ignored me.

“I mean I have a village to get back to, people to see, and you . . . you have, uh, dragon things to do, I guess.”

Silence stretched on. The lull allowed me to think a little, to let my anger quell and some cousin of guilt seep in.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I get it. You’re mad that we hurt your friends; believe me, fighting dragons was not my idea. But let’s not forget that you attacked us first, okay? Truce?”

Of course, Toothless couldn’t understand a word I said. He must have heard something though, because he suddenly stood. I crawled out from under his belly, letting my bruised lungs get a full mouthful of air.

“Much better.” I dusted myself off. Toothless was watching me, so I offered a thanks.

Toothless leaned in. His eyes narrowed.

He licked my hair. That was fine, until I realized he was deliberately slobbering all over it.

“ _Why would you do that_?”

Toothless leaned in again. He sniffed my hair, and then warbled.

I glared at him. “Sometimes I hate you.”

Toothless did an odd thing with his shoulders, like he was shrugging. Then he trotted off.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Toothless seemed to sigh.

He whacked my face with his tail.


	10. Chapter 10

Today was a _wonderful_ day. Not only did I finally get out of the house to discover I was the village freak, but the same dragon that had made everyone think I was a freak had turned around and decided it was hilarious to drool all over my hair. On the bright side of things, save for a few strands, it had mostly dried. I smelt a bit like smoke though.

Just when I was thinking things couldn’t get worse, I pushed my way through the branches and back into the village . . . and ran right into Gobber.

“Hiccup, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Gobber asked. He slapped me on the back, nearly knocking me over. “Dragon training’s in two minutes. We’ll be playing with the Deadly Nadder today!”

Of course we were; it was Tuesday, after all. Otherwise known as the worst day of the week. While I hated dragon training on the best of days, I especially hated dragon training with the Nadder. Nadders were ridiculously quick and agile, like a winged hare that had eaten too many mushrooms. Combining them with a clumsy, gawky person like me . . . it was a recipe for disaster. It didn’t help that Gobber liked to stack things in favour of the Nadder.

His hook snagging my collar, Gobber dragged me into the area, where I found he had set up a tall maze. I groaned. I’d done this before; I knew what would happen. We’d run through the twisting maze, and the Nadder would be perched on the walls above, picking us off one by one. It would go after Tuffnut and Ruffnut first, because they couldn’t keep their mouths shut, then Fishlegs because he was as awkward as me, and then the fun would really start.

“Alright, grab your weapon, Hiccup!” Gobber called.

I walked over to the weapon rack, where everyone else was already waiting. Most of them didn’t say much, but Snotlout jeered, “Hey, if it isn’t the star of the raid!”

I sighed.

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said. “What happened in the raid doesn’t matter. You know the drill, Hiccup.”

“Stay out of your way,” I droned.

Astrid pointed at me. “Don’t you forget it.”

When the Nadder was released, I did exactly as I was told. I tiptoed through the maze, staying far away from Astrid. The twins were already arguing, and I could hear Snotlout loudly making excuses for something he had done.

“Ruffnut, Tuffnut, you’re out!”

And that was two down. I counted down the seconds until Fishlegs was eliminated (two hundred and sixty five . . . longer than I expected). That left the three of us, soon to be two.

“Make way!” Snotlout shouted. He came barging through the corridor I was waiting in, the Nadder hot on his heels. I pressed into the wall, holding my shield in front. Snotlout ran past me, and so did the Nadder, too focused on the hairy, screaming boy to worry about me. Snotlout, while attempting a turn, smashed right into one of the maze’s wall. Both he and it fell over with a plop.

“Hah, take that, wall!” Snotlout said. He grinned –

And the Nadder was on him.

I watched with mild interest.

To Snotlout’s embarrassment, Astrid charged in to his rescue. She slammed her axe (the head of the axe, not the bit; we weren’t supposed to kill the dragons just yet) into the Nadder’s head. The Nadder reeled back with a shriek, stumbling backwards, and retreated to the safety of the maze’s walls.

Right above me.

This could only end well.

Wings spread, the Nadder hissed in Astrid’s direction; it hadn’t noticed I was there. It continued not to notice I was there, until Astrid finally recognized me hiding behind my shield. That moment where her eyes widened, where she paused, was everything the Nadder needed to know something was up.

It looked down.

I smiled awkwardly at it.

In all honesty, I can’t really blame the Nadder for how it reacted. If I had looked down to see a Terrible Terror at my feet, I would have kicked it. Similarly, the Nadder jumped right onto my back, knocking my helmet off and me down, and stomped on me. I should have been done after that, but hanging out with Toothless had given my body tolerance against random assaults by heavy weights, and the Nadder was lighter than Toothless was.

Since I was pinned to the floor, my cheek being ground into the dirt, I had a very weird view of Astrid. She was scowling, looking a bit frightened, or maybe worried; it was hard to tell when she was sideways. She raised her axe high, charged –

The Nadder’s talons dug into my back as it stiffened.

Several sharp clangs rang through the air as the Nadder shot spikes, which bounced off Astrid’s shield. She was close enough to us that I relaxed, knowing that in a few moments, I would be free to move and Astrid would be beating up the poor dragon.

Then the dragon switched what it was shooting.

She blocked the fireball – of course, she did. She’s _Astrid_ – but the impact was still enough to send her flying backwards. In the corner of my eyes, I saw Gobber rushing in to interfere, which was a red-hot warning that this fight had spiralled out of control. The Nadder roused its flame again.

And aimed at me.

For the third time in the arena, I found myself in mortal danger.

. . . Gobber _really_ needed to reconsider his safety precautions.

For the third time in the arena, I miraculously didn’t die.

The Nadder’s mouth snapped shut. It stuck its snout right into my hair, and sniffed. And sniffed again. And again. Meanwhile, Gobber and Astrid were slooowly creeping forwards, torn between helping me and not spooking the Nadder into killing me.

The Nadder backed off.

My spine popped as I went up into a sitting position. The Nadder was staring at me, neck bent so that we were eye-level. Its nostrils flared dramatically. It stuck its snout into my hair again.

And it backed off..

My eyes were on the Nadder, so I couldn’t see the others, but I knew what their expressions would look like. The Nadder was . . . it was just leaving me alone, and I had no idea why.

Astrid whispered, “Hiccup?”

A pause.

The Nadder shrieked and went after her.

Astrid could have easily taken care of herself, but my weirdness had been enough for Gobber. He hooked the Nadder by the inside of its snout, and then tugged it over to its cage, where he locked it securely inside. He turned around after, staring straight at me. Everyone was, actually.

“How did you do that?” Astrid demanded.

I looked at her. Truthfully, I said, “I have no idea.”


	11. Chapter 11

“So, Hiccup, what’s your secret?”

When I heard Tuffnut asking me that, I was torn between lying, and getting out of there as fast as I could. However, as I found, hesitating wasn’t the best choice. They all noticed, and immediately focused on me.

I’d rather have the Nadder back.

“I told you,” I said. “I don’t know.”

Astrid asked, “Why did it stop attacking you?”

“Maybe it’s just me,” I suggested. “You guys wouldn’t know, but I can be pretty scary.”

Tuffnut and Ruffnut burst into laughter.

“I’m being serious,” Astrid said.

I smiled awkwardly. “Maybe I am, too?”

Gobber snorted. “Good one, Hiccup!” he said, slapping me on the back.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yep, that’s me. The joker. Now, I’ll just be leaving . . .”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” Astrid marched right up to me, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “I asked you a question, and you’re going to answer it!”

“I don’t know the answer,” I said slowly.

Gobber clapped his hands together. “Alright, why don’t we call it quits for the day? The Zippleback is up tomorrow, so you all best be getting some rest.”

Astrid ground her teeth together. She wasn’t happy, but I thought I had gotten away with this . . .

At least, I thought so until Snotlout said, “You know why the dragon isn’t attacking him? It’s because it realizes that, compared to everyone else, he isn’t a threat. I mean, he just stands around all the time and does nothing.”

I said, “No, that’ s . . .”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Astrid said.

Snotlout puffed his chest out. “I’m a pretty smart guy, Astrid.”

But Astrid was ignoring him in favour of me, which, for once, was not a good thing. “ _You_.”

I held a hand up. “Hi.”

“You need to stop fooling around!” Astrid cried. “You keep acting like . . . like this is some sort of game! Does this even mean anything to you? Do you even care that –?”

“Astrid, that’s enough.” Gobber put his hand on my shoulder in what I suspected was a comforting gesture.

“No!” She sounded on the verge of exploding. “He needs to hear this.”

“Astrid.” Gobber’s tone dropped. “He’s doing the best he can.”

“Well, his best isn’t good enoughh!” she spat.

My heart dropped into my stomach. Although I wanted to, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t see anything but hate in her face. She was just . . . she was just glaring at me, breathing heavily, threatening me with her eyes. Heat rushed to my cheeks.

She opened her mouth to say more, but Gobber reached over me and grabbed her shoulder. Sternly, he said, “That’s enough.”

She huffed and walked away, scooping up her axe as she said, “I’m out of here.”

“Uh, Astrid, wait up!” Snotlout ran after her, quickly followed by Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Fishlegs started after them, then hesitated and looked back at me.

Before I could say anything, Gobber waved him off. “Go ahead, Fishlegs. Me and Hiccup need to have a bit of a talk.”

A heavy breath left my lungs. I stared at the ground, not wanting to look up and see anyone staring back at me.

Then, there was a hand on both of my shoulders. “You alright, Hiccup.”

“Fine.” I shrugged out of Gobber’s grasp. “Can I go?”

It was one thing to have Astrid screaming at me; it was another thing to have Gobber look at me with such disappointment. The moment I saw that, my face went from red to pale.

“Hiccup,” Gobber said gently, “she’s right. You got to stop hiding. Start trying.”

“I am trying.”

He shook his head. “No, you aren’t. I see you, Hiccup. You hide behind your shield and let everyone else do their thing. You’re not going to slay dragons that way. You got to be adventurous, take a few risks. It’s not as hard as it looks. You got your dad’s . . . uh . . . well . . . you’re still his son.”

He went down on his knees. His hands squeezed my shoulders, holding me tight as he whispered, “Dragon fighting is in your blood.”

“No.” I wrenched away from him. “No, it isn’t.”

As I marched away from him, intent on getting out of the arena, Gobber called after me. I hardened myself, and then filled my mind with pictures of Toothless and me, until Gobber’s voice was nothing more than a buzz.

But then one sentence ruined all that.

“Your dad wants to watch tomorrow.”

I froze mid-step. “What?”

Quietly, Gobber said, “He wanted to see how you were doing before he and the other Vikings went to look for the nest.”

My mouth was dry. I swallowed, but that didn’t make it any better. “He never told me that.”

“He wanted it to be a surprise.”

“A surprise,” I repeated. “Well, you can tell him I’m just _flattered_. Yep. Nothing I like better than embarrassing myself in front of him.”

Gobber sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like that. Just try a little harder tomorrow. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

I whirled around. “You don’t understand!”

“I do,” Gobber said. “You’re scared. We’re all scared at the beginning, Hiccup. You just . . . you show it more than the others. _Much_ more.”

“No, that’s not it!” I cried. “I don’t want to fight dragons! I _can’t_.”

“Of course you can!” Gobber was smiling again. He walked towards me, hands spread. “Every Viking can fight dragons. Even you. You just need a little practice.”

“You don’t understand. I _can’t_ fight dragons! I don’t _want_ to fight them.”

“Hiccup . . .”

I looked desperately at him, searching for some sign of understanding. But I didn’t find it. Not the kind I was looking for.

I could literally hear the fight being sucked out of me. Gobber didn’t understand. He _couldn’t_ understand. He was a Viking, a true Viking that fought and killed dragons. And I was just something else. We were alike on the outside (kind of . . . a little bit?), but on the inside? That was an entirely different story.

Gobber tried to comfort me again, and I pretended to let him. Really, it was unnecessary though. I wasn’t upset; I felt nothing.

Just empty.

* * *

“Why? Why did you do that? You had me right there, and you . . . you let me go!”

My shout echoed, and then faded into the air. There was no answer from the Deadly Nadder, and it made me feel helpless. I wondered: had Toothless felt like this when I had first freed him from the rope? Confused? Frightened? Weak? Had the other dragons wondered why the humans had let him go?

My head fell against the door to the Nadder’s cage. After the talk with Gobber, I had run into the forest, hoping that Toothless would find me and take my mind off things. But Toothless hadn’t shown up today, and instead, I had been left with my thoughts - which, in my world, was as often a dangerous thing as it was helpful. So, now, I was back in the arena. Everyone had left long ago, and it was just me, and the dragons.

“None of you will even talk to me, will you?” I said. It made sense. I was one of the humans that kept attacking them, even if I did none of the actual attacking.

I started to slide down the wall. At one point, it seemed to give way, and I nearly fell backwards. No, the wall wasn’t collapsing; I had just reached the flap used to deliver the dragon’s food. It was at the bottom of the door, so that Gobber could kick food in and not risk getting burned.

I stared at it, inexplicably curious.

I poked it.

I heard no movement from the other side. That didn’t mean anything though. The dragon could be waiting by the flap for me to stick my hand in.

But . . . I was quick. A peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Gobber must have looked in all the time, checking on his ‘beasties’. It would just be for a second. It wasn’t like the Nadder could escape through the flap anyways.

I pulled the flap up, and closed it again really quickly. When the dragon didn’t start screeching, I pulled the flap up again.

I cringed when I saw what was inside. All this time, I had been yelling at the Nadder . . . and standing in front of the door to the Zippleback’s cage.

The Zippleback was against the far end of the wall. As I held the flap open, a sour smell – a rotten smell – crawled into my nose. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the light and the source of the stench became evident. There was rotting fish all over, in various states of decay. But why? I examined the scene, shuffling through explanations in my mind, until I finally found one that made sense.

The Zippleback wasn’t eating. Why?

Then, I saw a very special fish. It was near the center of the cage, like a barrier between the Zippleback and the fish. And just what was so special about it? Well, it was the same eel (or, the remains of) that Toothless had rejected around a week ago.

I was reaching a horrible conclusion.

For the first time, I was thankful I was so small. It meant I could reach my entire arm in, and most of my upper body. I still was so short to reach the eel, but that was fixed once I looked around and found a stick. Clumsily, I pulled the eel towards me. I picked it up with the stick – hey, not even a Viking was brave enough to grab that things with their hands – and pulled it out of the Zippleback’s cage.

Was that it? Did eels freak out Zipplebacks too?

I thought so, especially once I peeked inside the cage a minute later and saw that the Zippleback had moved. It was racing around the cage, gulping down as many of the fresher fish as it could.

I felt terrible. Not only was I a terrible Viking and the worst dragon slayer ever, but even though I had sworn not to fight dragons, here I was, indirectly starving them to death.

I shook my head, driving the thought from my mind. That’s when I noticed only one of the Zippleback’s head was still eating fish. Where was the other . . .?

Warm air blasted my head.

I looked up.

Found it.

The Zippleback’s other head sniffed me. And sniffed some more. It went lower still, bumping my temple. Before it could bite me, I retreated through the flap. Maybe I could sneak some fish for the poor guy, just to make sure he didn’t pass out during tomorrow’s fight.

Tomorrow . . .

I gulped. Tomorrow, we would be fighting the Zippleback. Dad would be in the audience somewhere, watching. And if he thought I was a disappointment now, then tomorrow . . .

Tomorrow, he would hate me.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a dark, stormy night.

Okay, so it was actually a crisp morning and the sun was shining brightly, but I think the previous description better matched my mood. We were in the arena fighting the Zippleback today, and although I couldn’t see him, I knew Dad was hiding somewhere , watching. I hoped he wanted to see his son make an utter fool of himself, because that was exactly what he was going to get.

I held my water-filled bucket close. Zippleback, Zippleback . . . where were you? It must have been five minutes so far, and the Zippleback had done nothing but tease us. It would poke its head out of the gas cloud, giggle at us, and then retreat again. It liked to do that. I couldn’t blame it; it must have been boring sitting around in a cage all day.

Shouting. From what I gleamed, Snotlout or Tuffnut (or both) had tossed their water at the girls. They all continued to argue for a few more seconds, and then the screams rose in intensity and tone –

I heard Fishlegs gulp. We were standing back-to-back, keeping an eye out for the dragon.

“Hiccup . . .”

“Gobber would have stepped in if it was bad,” I said dully. “They’re fine . . .”

The Zippleback’s staccato laugh bounced around the arena, so that it seemed to come from everywhere. Fishlegs and I went silent.

Then, I nearly fell forward as Fishlegs scampered forwards.

“I got it!”

I turned just in time to see Fishlegs douse the Zippleback’s head.

He dropped his bucket. “Wow, I did it. I actually –”

A cloud of gas escaped from between the Zippleback’s damp jaws.

Fishlegs had doused the wrong head.

That was enough for him. He promptly fled, leaving me behind with the Zippleback. I was faintly aware of Gobber cheering for me, but most of my attention was on the head that would light the gas.

Well, here goes . . .

I tossed my bucket.

The water rose about a foot in the air, then promptly fell back to earth.

Of _course_ it did.

Gobber shouted again. This time, he didn’t sound so joyful. And I picked my way backwards, trying to find a safe spot to stand so that I didn’t explode along with the gas, but it was everywhere.

The Zippleback came close. _Really_ close. Gas poured out, cloaking us in a thick white fog that made it possible for me to see anyone else . . . or for them to see us. As I watched, the Zipplback’s eyes widened, turning from slits to circles. One head was peering at my face; the other went up and over me . . .

Scales grazed my back.

From behind, one of the Zippleback’s heads nudged me, sending me right into the other one. My hands instinctively shot out to balance myself, with one passing into the space between the dragon’s open jaws. But it didn’t bite down. If anything, it seemed until I had drawn my hand back to safety before closing its mouth.

And the head came forwards. It pressed against my chest, then slid upwards. The rough scales were rather unpleasant on my skin, but not painful. The Zippleback glanced at me, blinked, and then rubbed its cheek against mine. Behind me, the other head nuzzled my neck.

Okay, I had no idea what was going on. The dragon was making this rumbling sound, like . . . like one of Toothless’s weird purrs.

Both heads were in front of me now. Awkwardly, I said, “Uh, hi.”

The dragon trilled.

What was going on? Where was the fighting, the growling, the lighting-me-on-fire? This seemed very undragon-like to me.

Tell that to the Zippleback though, because that’s what it seemed set on acting like. I had no idea why it would act this way; I mean, we never even saw each other outside of –

But we had, hadn’t we? And . . . and I think I might understand: it was the eel. The Zippleback’s happy that I took the eel away, and it’s . . . thanking me?

But dragons don’t do that. They don’t thank people; they don’t like people. Dragons always go for the kill –

But it hadn’t. And neither had the Nadder.

Neither had Toothless.

After the things Toothless and I had done together, I must have unconsciously known; consciously, however, this was the first time that I acknowledged it: dragons were vastly more complicated than we had given them credit for.

The Zippleback slithered back into the fog. I heard it hiss as it ran into someone – Gobber, by the sound of it – then there was a loud bang, and the Zippleback was silent.

The gas was clearing. I could faintly make out the faces of the other teens, all of whom had the same dumbstruck expression. Even further off, there was a massive shadow approaching.

This couldn’t be good.

“You’re alive?” Dad said slowly.

Dryly, I answered, “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“You . .. it . . .” He stumbled a bit over his words. “The dragon had you, and yet . . . you’re unharmed.”

“I don’t know. My hair got messed up quite a bit, and I don’t think my self-esteem will ever be the same.”

“How did this happen?” Dad demanded.

From behind, Snotlout snorted, “He probably did nothing. Again.”

Dad just looked at him, and Snotlout shut up pretty quickly. Dad said, “Hiccup?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Dad looked like he had just seen a dragon that could talk “Gobber!” he barked. “Is this what usually goes on here?”

Gobber held his hand up in a placating manner. “Now, Stoick, remember: he’s still learning. Everyone makes mistakes at that age.”

“What usually happens, Gobber?”

Gobber winced. “Well, Hiccup, he . . . he doesn’t do too much. He doesn’t like to fight. Not against dragons, at least.”

“Doesn’t like to fight dragons?” Dad repeated, aghast.

“Dad –”

Dad turned on me. “We had a deal, Hiccup.”

“Yeah, a very one-sided deal if you asked me,” I grumbled.

Dad, of course, didn’t listen. “You told me there would be no more of this . . . this strangeness.”

“Uh, last time I checked, you said that. And way to fracture my already battered self-esteem . . .”

“I’m being serious!”

The sudden shout caught me off-guard. I couldn’t see him, but I still felt Gobber flinch.

Dad, towering above me like an angry Nightmare, said, “Hiccup, you aren’t a child anymore. It is time for you to become a Viking.”

“But that doesn’t mean I have to fight –”

“I’m heading to the docks now, Gobber.” Dad turned towards him, consequently turning his back on me. “See that . . . keep up the training.”

No one spoke as Dad left the arena. Hardly anyone would look at me. Even Snotlout, who normally would be jumping all over this opportunity, was silent and refused to meet my eyes.

And that’s what made it so bad. I think if it had just been us, just me and him, I could have handled this. But Dad, he . . . he had done it in front of _everyone_. _Again_. And I . . . I . . .

I needed to get out of here.

I ignored Gobber and forced my way out of the arena (I say forced because those doors are _heavy_!). My feet, on instinct, going against what my logical mind probably would have liked, brought me to a cliff that offered a nice view of the docks and the Vikings upon it. One of them would be my Dad, preparing for yet another ultimately useless hunt for the dragon nest.

I sat there and watched. As the day wore on and the boats were fully loaded, it finally dawned on me.

Dad didn’t say goodbye.


	13. Chapter 13

For the first time in a long while, when I ran into the woods, it was with no desire to see Toothless. Naturally, the infuriating reptile sensed my urge to be completely alone and found me. Which was just great. Because all I wanted right now was _more_ dragons.

“I don’t have any food,” I said. “Scram.”

Toothless ignored me and crept up to me, making his ‘Hello’ noises.

Slowly, I said, “I don’t have anything. Go away.”

I stomped past him. I could hear Toothless chuffing behind me. Then, something tugged at my pants.

“ _Go away!_ ” I shouted, making Toothless jump. “I don’t want you here! Go. Go back to the rest of your kind!”

Toothless stared at me like a big, dumb animal.

Furious, I demanded. “Why are you still here?”

Toothless cocked his head, as if considering.

He lunged.

Before I could even blink, he had the back of my collar in his teeth. I tried to fight, but he was _huge_ , not to mention strong. So, he happily trotted along, dragging me by the scruff of my vest. My feet dug into the dirt, but I don’t think he even noticed.

“You have no idea how much I hate you right now.”

Toothless pulled me all the way to the edge of the cove. By that time, I was insanely bored, and had resorted to counting the scales on his body (a hundred and twenty three, so far). The way he was holding me meant I was facing the ground, and I had a good view of the drop into the cove. And it was more than large enough to make me nervous.

“Toothless, what are you doing?” I glanced back and for the first time, noticed his wings were open.

No. There was no way he would –

He did.

I screamed. Even though Toothless was technically holding me, it very much felt like falling through the sky. The cove’s floor was coming towards us at a dizzyingly speed and, unlike Toothless apparently, I had no experience with or desire to crash into the earth.

Toothless jerked back. I did, too, but only for a second. My arms slid neatly out of the vest, and then I was falling –

Claws hooked into my shirt. Once again, my vertical motion drew to a sudden halt. Now, we were flying flat towards the other end of the cove, and honestly, it wasn’t much better because we were moving fast enough that I just felt like I was falling sideways.

“Toothless, stop! Let me down.”

Toothless glanced at me.

 _He let go_.

I was falling –

. . .

The water was very cold.

“Stupid . . . I hate you,” I said to Toothless, who had dove into the water and was now paddling near me. I plucked my loose vest off his head and put it on. “I’m being serious. I don’t think I’ve ever hated _anything_ as much as I do . . .”

My voice was drowned out by a huge wave of water. I wrung my hair. There was no way Toothless didn’t do that on purpose. Toothless started laughing at me, so I splashed him back. Or at least tried to. The splash didn’t go far enough.

Toothless laughed some more, then swam away.

“Oh no, you don’t!” I swam after him. Swimming was something I could actually do, despite what others might say, and considering the slow speed at which Toothless was swimming, catching up was pretty easy.

I splashed him. Toothless casually glanced at me.

He sucked in a mouthful of water, and then sprayed me.

I wiped my face. “You . . .”

Toothless laughed.

I growled, “Get over here!”

Toothless swam just out of reach, still laughing. He tried to swim past me, and well, I couldn’t dunk his head under the water like I wanted, so I clambered on top of him instead. It seemed like a good spot. I could splash him easily (which I did), he couldn’t really get me . . .

But he could flip over.

Thankfully, by the time he did, we were in the shallow part. I coughed and stood, the water up to my waist. Toothless stared at me; I could just _feel_ innocence radiating from him.

“Yes, thank you for that.” I whisked some liquid off my shoulders. “That’s _just_ what I needed. You –”

I spluttered as water crashed into my face.

“Ha, ha,” I said. “ _Real_ funny. Now if it doesn’t interfere with your ‘Let’s Pick on the Hiccup’ day, I’m –”

More water.

“What’s wrong with you? I . . .”

“I hate –”

“Toothless!”

A pause. Then a little bit of water.

“That’s it!” I threw my entire body into the splash, with the result being that I completely drenched Toothless’s head. He seemed shocked more than anything.

That’ll teach him to underestimate me.

I grinned. “Not so smug now, are you?”

Toothless sat down. His mouth slowly curled into that toothless imitation of a smile. A twinge of real amusement tugged at my lips. I quickly replaced it with a scowl.

“I’m still mad at you,” I said. “All of –”

 _Splash_.

I sighed. Soaked, shivering, I decided to cut my losses and surrender. “Fine. I’m not mad.”

Toothless rumbled in satisfaction. He stood up to get out of the water, and marched towards the shore. Before he got there though, he leaned over and plucked me up by the scruff of my vest again. Because why not? Even if the other Vikings remind me I’m a runt every day, there’s still a possibility I could forget. And that would be terrible, so why shouldn’t we have the dragon remind me, too?

At least he wasn’t rough when he put me down, which almost made up for when he had dropped me into the water. After that, he shuddered, as if cold. Or maybe he just didn’t like the taste of me. Good to know.

I set to the task of wringing out my vest. Toothless was stretched out next to me. Now that we had kind of made amends, I was starting to think clearly again. And with that, came guilt.

“I wasn’t actually mad at you,” I confessed. “It’s just been a rough day. My dad was watching the dragon training, and . . . well, you don’t know what that is, but all you need to know is that I screwed up.”

I tossed my vest to the ground. “Just another day in the life of Hiccup the Useless.”

I glanced sideways to see Toothless was no longer there. Well, he was, but he had moved about a yard away to bask in the sun. Just when I was starting to feel pathetic for venting to a dragon that was ignoring me, Toothless lifted his head. His stare seemed to say ‘ _continue_ ’.

So, I did. “And here I am, talking to a dragon. I’m really climbing up the social ladder here.”

I scooted closer to Toothless. He had his wings out on either side, and I thought I could see a little bit of steam rising from his body. Eyes closed, he purred to himself, and rubbed his chin on the ground. I was little more than a few feet away.

Quietly, I said, “It’s weird to think that you might be one of the only friends I have.”

Toothless opened his eyes, and blinked. He crooned curiously.

At that moment, I must have stopped thinking, because I lifted my arm automatically, and reached out. My hand was an inch away from his snout when I froze. A good thing too, because his eyes had narrowed into slits, and he was starting to huff.

“Right. Sorry.” I dragged my other hand through my hair. “You know, you don’t have to hang out with me. It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

Toothless studied me. I looked away. The hand that had been reaching out before drifted back towards my chest. Toothless may have been one of the only friends I had, but that didn’t make us _friends_. It just meant that he was willing to put up with me. We weren’t actual friends. Not really. Especially considering –

What was that? I could feel something smooth in my palm. It lasted for a few moments, then faded. At that point, I looked back to Toothless.

He stared back at me.

Very deliberately, he pressed his head against my hand.


	14. Chapter 14

We stayed there, in complete silence, for a good few minutes. I didn’t even dare breathe, worried that Toothless would panic if I moved. His eyes were focused on mine, narrowed, wary, and yet, I wasn’t afraid. Air rushed alongside my arm as he inhaled, and he suddenly sniffed in disgust.

My fingers began to curl. His scales were smooth, almost like leather, although I could feel the ridges of the individual scales if I pressed hard enough. I glanced at him, making sure was I was doing was okay; he tilted his head slightly to the side and crooned.

I set my jaw and pushed my palm against his head, fingers splayed. He pushed back, holding his position, and the pressure was like a firm handshake. In this position, with me sitting and him lying down, we were at the same level.

He slowly moved his head back. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking; it’s not like I was exactly an expert on dragon expressions or anything. I kept my arm out, still too skittish to move.

Finally, I found myself. My arm returned to my side. “You’re . . . okay with this?”

A ripple went through his body, like he was shrugging from head to toe. He laid his head down again, and his tail swung around to curl up beside it. It was a familiar scene.

I reached over his tail, and put my hand on his flank. He stirred, and glanced at me, eyes questioning. For a reason I wasn’t even sure about, I whispered, “Thank you.”

He held my gaze, silent, before resting again.

* * *

It was almost funny. I had walked into the woods furious with myself, furious at dragonkind for everything they were inadvertently putting me through. I had been ready to chase Toothless off and for an instant, ready to break ties. And then . . . well . . . things involving lots of water had happened, and now here I was, completely content. Like a Viking who had just slain his first dragon.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Anyways, I returned to Berk, doing my best to supress a smile. As giddy as I was feeling, I knew that wasn’t exactly the proper emotion to be expressing after utterly humiliating myself in front of the chief – not unless I wanted people to think I was insane. So, I schooled my face into my regular I-am-so-fed-up-with-people stare, and walked briskly without stopping for anybody.

That had been the plan, at least. But we can’t have things go my way, can we?

“Hiccup! There you are?” Gobber hobbled over. “Your dad was looking for you.”

“He . . . was?” I said carefully. A glimmer of hope made my voice wobble. I had thought that after that fiasco, Dad would want nothing more to pretend I wasn’t his. “Is he still looking?”

“Well . . .” Gobber rubbed the back of his head. “No. He had a tight schedule, and when you didn’t show up . . . he couldn’t keep the rest of the Vikings waiting.”

“Of course not,” I said flatly.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Gobber said. “I know Stoick isn’t the warmest of people, but you’re still his son. He still cares about you; he just can’t stand what you are, that’s all!”

“Wow. Thanks for making me feel better.”

Gobber chucked, my sarcasm completely missing him. “Now, what are you up to?”

I shrugged. “I was going to look at the Book of Dragons,” I said truthfully.

“That’s the spirit! First, you learn about the beasties and their weaknesses, then you crush them!” He suddenly frowned. “Wait. Didn’t I tell you all to read that a couple of weeks ago?”

“Uh, yeah . . .” Thinking quickly, I said, “Well, I wanted to refresh my memory. And I really need to get to-it-so-bye!”

I ran straight from there all the way to the Great Hall, then, with difficulty, pulled the doors shut behind me. The Book of Dragons was stored in the back of the Hall, along with all the other legends and tales important to our culture. I pulled it out, brushed the dust off with my arm, (coughed violently as it flew right into my face), and stared at the cover.

This was it: every piece of knowledge we had about dragons lay within this book. I wasn’t even going to try to predict how many pages this thing was.

My stomach kept doing flips. I was a bit nervous about what I would find inside (what if it turned out that Night Furies played with their prey before eating it?), but mostly, I was just plain excited.

I opened up the page to the first entry.

It was . . . disappointing. Oh, sure, to a _regular_ Viking, everything they would want was here. We had the dragon species (Gronckle), an approximation of its size and weight, what its offensive capabilities were, and most importantly, its weaknesses. All that and a lovely note at the end that this dragon was EXTREMELY DANGEROUS and should be killed on sight. None of that was what I was looking for. I was more interested in the mundane stuff. Like what they ate. Where they liked to sleep at night. You know, those sort of boring details.

I flipped to the next page. This was about the Deadly Nadder. Also Extremely dangerous, and to be killed on sight.

The Hideous Zippleback. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight . . .

Monstrous Nightmare. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight.

Changewing. Extremely dangerous . . .

Skrill. Extremely . . .

Terrible Terror . . . Extremely dangerous?

I flipped through the pages, and the more I read, the more I realized it was all the same.

Then, I found it.

The entry on the Night Fury. I read the thing in its entirety.

_“Speed: Unknown. Size: Unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance, hide and pray it does not find you.”_

A cold shiver went up my spine. Between Toothless’s playful attitude and his rather mild appearance, I’d almost forgotten; he was Berk’s nightmare. The other dragons could be fought, but not him. Not until I came along. And I couldn’t bring myself to fight dragons.

My throat ran dry as I realized just what I was dealing with. Hanging around Toothless, it was like sailing into a hurricane and hoping you could ride it out. He was dangerous. He was a killer. He was . . .

 _“A dragon always goes for the kill!_ ”

“But you didn’t,” I said quietly.

I took a long moment to let the words sink in, and then I read the book once more. That’s when I realized just how little information there really was. Did anyone know that dragons were terrified of eels? That they were in love with the grass in the northern fields? Did they know that dragons happened to have some concept of gratitude?

We knew so much about dragons . . .

And yet we didn’t know anything.

* * *

“Alright, Toothless! Guess what? You have are about to have the honour of being the first entry in my new Book of Dragons.” I held my sketchpad up high. “What do you think of that?”

Toothless glanced at me. Then he went back to digging.

I dropped my arms. “Yep. About what I was expecting.”

Toothless didn’t seem too interested in me right now, which was perfectly fine, for once. I had a job to get done, and that was pretty hard to do when there was a dragon peeping over your shoulder. So, I settled down, flipped upon my sketchbook and began to draw. With my back against a tree and a cloud of shade surrounding me, I was the picture of peace.

Which meant that, naturally, Toothless had to bother me.

As I was tracing his body, he waddled over. He sat down, and then leaned forward until I could stick my tongue out and touch him. He sniffed my sketchpad, and crooned.

When his teeth slid into place, I yanked the sketchpad out of harm’s way. “Oh, no. That is not something for you to eat!”

Of course, Toothless just took that as an invitation to wrestle me for it. He tried to hop over me, but instead knocked me onto my back. Then, he nearly burrowed into my side with his vigorous attempts to roll me over.

“Fine.” I let the sketchpad go. “But don’t say I didn’t . . .”

Toothless took a big mouthful of a loose piece of paper.

A moment’s pause.

He gagged violently.

“ . . . warn you.”

The crumpled, dripping wad of paper dropped unceremoniously at my feet. Toothless continued to gag, glaring at me like I had purposely tricked him into eating it. He stalked away.

I groaned. The paper Toothless had chewed on was the same one with my drawing. Which meant it was time to start over. I drew as much as I remembered, then looked up –

To see Toothless a few feet in front of me, tail held straight behind, eyes narrowed, like he was stalking me.

Flatly, I asked, “What are you doing?”

Toothless was absolutely still. After a minute or so, I got bored and went back to drawing. When I looked up again, he was in the same position, but notably closer. Intrigued, I looked down at my sketchpad, and slowly let my eyes rise. Yep, he was inching closer.

I looked him in the face. “What is it?”

Toothless started, as if shocked I’d noticed his stealthy approach. He closed the distance between us, and studied my drawing. He studied it so intensely that he pressed his snout against it.

“I can’t finish if you’re in the way.” I flicked him, and he drew back.

He continued to watch as I traced out his head. At one point, he scratched at the paper with his claws, and I had to (or at least tried to) push them off.

Then he swallowed my hand.

I stared at him. He stared at me. I slowly yanked my hand out. It came back, but covered in slobber. I wiped it on my pants.

When I looked at Toothless next, my pencil was sticking out of his mouth.

Good thing I had brought spares. (Honestly, I was surprised Toothless had been this unobtrusive. So far)

I smiled. “You shouldn’t eat that either.”

Toothless crooned. He leaned forward, nearly jabbing me in the eye with the pencil. Not that he cared. He gave me a look that just asked, _What’s bothering you_?

I quickly whipped out a spare. Toothless, snout nearly touching the paper again, watched.

 _Riiiip_.

I rolled my eyes as Toothless forced the tip of his stolen pencil deep into the sketchpad, tearing the paper. He, on the other hand, appeared stunned by this. With a grumble, he put his paw on the sketchpad, and started stabbing the poor thing.

So much for the new Book of Dragons.

And he stopped. His ears perked up, and he quickly looked at me and then back at the sketchpad.

I crawled over. “What is it, bud?”

I didn’t see anything too astonishing. Just my battered drawing, with lots of holes, and a wobbly line.

 _Oh_.

I grinned. “Looks like you’ve learned how to draw.”

He was practically shaking with excitement, and when I tried to take my sketchpad back, he pounced. He loomed over it, paws covering it, eyes narrowed into suspicious slits, and jerked away from me.

“Toothless, that’s mine! I’m the one who brought it.”

We wrestled a bit, and I barely managed to sneak it out of his grasp. Before he could attack, just when he started to growl, I tore off a piece of paper and handed it to him.

“There,” I said. “That’s for you.”

Satisfied, Toothless chirped and began scribbling. As far as I could tell, there was no logic to his design.

I thought that would be the end of it. That Toothless was _finally_ occupied. But it couldn’t have been more than two minutes before he started scribbling on _my_ paper.

“Toothless!”

He laughed. So, for revenge, I drew on his paper. It was pretty funny; I’ve never seen a dragon look so aghast before. He actually roared a little, went up on his hind legs, and flared his wings.

I crossed my arms. “Not so fun being on the other side, is it?”

He glared. Without warning, he grabbed the scruff of my vest and lifted me up. Ever since he had discovered he could carry me like that, he had done so freely. Now, the question was, where was he going to . . .?

He dropped me in the lake.

When I emerged, spluttering and dripping, it was to look into the face of a _very_ smug night fury.

Toothless smiled.


	15. Chapter 15

As you may have guessed, my decision to make Toothless the first entry in my new Book of Dragons was a complete flop. An annoying, but utterly predictable result. That left me with two options: give up completely, or give the honour of the first entry to a more cooperative dragon.

No prizes for guessing which one I went with.

I really was in a desirable position for this job; there was a captive audience just waiting for me in the arena – some of whom seemed to have no desire to eat me. Always a good thing.

“Alright!” I shook a fish-filled bucket in my hands. “Who wants a snack?”

Naturally, there was no answer. But I knew if they could speak, they would all be saying yes.

I decided to start with the Zippleback. Of all the dragons, it seemed to harbour the least amount of ill will towards me, assuming that its behaviour in the arena was anything to go by. Of course, with my luck, that whole incident was already forgotten, and in its mind, I was just another Viking in a long list of Vikings ready to kill it.

I shifted the bucket, and half-pulled a fish out in anticipation. My plan was something along the lines of “toss a fish in there and hope everything goes well”. Bribing went a long way with Toothless, so I didn’t see why it wouldn’t work on the Zippleback.

I knocked on the Zippleback’s door. “Uh, hey. It’s me. You know, the guy who saved you from the eel that one time . . . so, I’m going to come in now. Any comments?”

Silence. I swallowed hard.

When I opened the door, the first glance I had of the Zippleback was as a huddled mass in the back of the cage. A low hiss rolled through the air, riding on the crest of a swirling cloud of gas. I hastily stepped inside, shutting the door before the dragon made a run for it.

“ . . . Hi.”

The Zippleback hissed sharply. In what little light entered this place, I could barely make out the silhouettes of its twin necks as they curled up and away from the body. Not a good sign.

“I brought food!” I raised my bucket. “Take some!”

I sloshed the contents forwards, where they landed with a wet smack. The Zippleback didn’t do much of anything at first. I think. It was hard to tell in the light.

Then, I heard the rough scrap of scales on rock, and I heard and felt more than saw the fish disappear.

“So, are we good?” I asked.

The scraping stopped. An eerie silence fell in its wake.

Hot air doused my face.

This was it. Time to see what the Zippleback really thought of me.

“Easy, there,” I said nervously. I shied away and held a hand up, like a shield.

Honestly, I couldn’t really see the dragon, but some sixth sense of mine was telling me that it was too close, and getting closer. I automatically stepped back, forgetting all about my intent to get on good terms with this dragon and –

A rock.

Why is there always a rock?

I fell backwards, right into the flap we used to pass food to the dragons. It swung open, and the sudden entrance of light was almost blinding. Just to me. The Zippleback didn’t seem to mind.

“Uh . . .” I tried to scamper back, but I was folded over at the waist, and wedged into the flap’s opening.

In other words, I was stuck.

“At least no one is here to see this,” I muttered. I don’t even know how I got into this situation; I don’t even know how this was physically possible! (But leave it to me to find a way). I lunged forwards and dug my nails into the dirt, trying to pull myself free. When that didn’t work, I put my hands on the flap’s frame, and pushed.

That went on for a few seconds, before I had to stop to catch my breath. I happened to lift my eyes at that point, and see the Zippleback watching me curiously.

I sighed.

I wriggled around, still trying to work myself free. It was in the middle of that when this unexpected, powerful force yanked me forwards. I popped forwards, leaving only my leg in the flap, where it held the door open. Slowly, I stood, grabbing the bucket and using that to prop open the flap after a moment of thought.

I dusted myself off. How did . . .?

I looked at the Zippleback. “Was that _you_?”

The Zippleback stared at me.

I was pretty certain that the answer to my question should have been yes. I mean apart from me, the Zippleback was the only one here, and I certainly hadn’t gotten myself free.

“Uh, thanks,” I said.

I reached for the dragon automatically, as I would with Toothless. Unlike Toothless, the Zippleback did not like that. It hissed, wings snapping open in warning, and slithered to the back of its cage.

“And yet you were the one all over me in the ring,” I smirked. Apparently, just like Toothless at first, touching was only okay when it was the Zippleback touching me.

I stood there lamely while the Zippleback stayed in its corner. Now what? I think I could say with some confidence that the Zippleback wasn’t going to hurt me – not now, at least – but we weren’t exactly buddies either. No, this . . . awkwardness that existed between us was far from what I had with Toothless.

It was a bit weird. In the ring, the Zippleback had seemed perfectly friendly. Now? Not so much. And I had brought it fish!

What was different?

I frowned thoughtfully. It couldn’t be the ring itself, could it? If we were out in the ring now, would things be better? Maybe, before, it had been scared, and that’s why it had been so happy to see me. Someone who had helped it out before. Kind of like how I used to cling to Dad’s legs when we visited the other Viking tribes. But could dragons even be scared?

“You know, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said. I know the Zippleback couldn’t understand me, but I was hoping that my voice would calm it. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The Zippleback didn’t move.

I sat down, making myself small, and prepared for the long haul.

I must have been there for an hour. In that whole time, the only thing the Zippleback did was curl up. I think it was sleeping. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? At the very least, it would mean it wasn’t internally freaking out.

Turned out it wasn’t sleeping though. The moment I stood, its eyes snapped open, and its chins lifted. I held my hand out in what I hoped was a placating manner.

“I’m just leaving. See, nothing bad is happening.” I opened the door, and squeezed out, leaving the Zippleback inside its cage.

I was halfway out of the arena when I remembered the bucket. I reached back through the flap, grabbed it . . .

For a second, I looked inside the cage again, and my eyes locked with the Zippleback.

I think . . . I felt _something_. Something passed between us. It may have just been on my side, but I felt something. Before I could figure out what it was those, the flap slammed shut, separating us once again.


	16. Chapter 16

“ . . . It just confuses me, that’s all. One day, the Zippleback’s cuddling with me in front of my dad, the next he’s just staring at me like he’s trying to burn me with his eyes. Maybe he’s secretly trying to sabotage me.”

Head on my hands, draped over a boulder, I glanced down at my companion . . . who was ignoring me in favour of the basket of fish I’d brought along. Toothless growled happily, pulled his head out of the bucket, and licked his lips.

Casually, I asked, “Do you think if I keep feeding him, he’ll like me, too?”

Toothless chuffed, and leapt onto my rock. He balanced haphazardly on the edge as he tried to find room to sit. Eventually, he gave up on that, and made room – by grabbing and shoving me to the side.

In my efforts not to fall off, I ended up huddling against Toothless’s flank. “Uh, could you move over a bit?”

He gave me his smug look. But then his wing snapped out and folded over me, pulling me to his side. It was better, but still a little too snug. Plus, I was getting a bit claustrophobic.

I wriggled free, and put my arm around Toothless’s neck for support. He rumbled curiously, wide green eyes blinking, and then narrowing suspiciously as I crawled out from under his wing. My foot slipped, and I grabbed his ear, to his great displeasure.

“Stop complaining, you big baby.” He growled as I began to clamber onto his back. “You were the one who wanted to share this spot.”

I was almost there, just had to get my legs up, when Toothless freaked. It was a really, _really_ good thing I wasn’t actually on his back, because Toothless went straight up. Like a pole. I honestly thought he was going to fall backwards off the rock. Which he did.

His wings flapped furiously as he fought to scrabble back onto the rock (I would have helped him, but he was a very big dragon, and I was a very small Viking). It was very tempting to put my foot on his nose and _push_.

I didn’t do that, but I did smirk when he lost the fight.

From the ground, he howled at me, and I just stuck my tongue out.

. . . which only got him mad.

He leapt onto the rock, weight concentrated on his haunches, and loomed over me. And I knew – I could _feel_ it – that he was about to shove me off. So, I readied myself, and when he lowered his head, I lunged.

Toothless shrieked. He shook himself. He pawed at my arms. I got tossed around like a rag. But finally, I found that one spot, and I threw myself over his neck and onto his back. Toothless automatically backed up to the rock’s edge, head swinging from side to side as he tried to find me.

I whistled. “Up here, bud!”

He slowly looked up. I think he was stunned that I had the audacity to sit on his back without asking.

“Hi.”

That crossed the line, apparently. Toothless didn’t try to shake me off this time. Instead, he let himself go. We toppled backwards onto the ground . . . with me on the bottom and him on top.

And then he refused to move.

“I hate you so much sometimes.”

He grunted.

A few minutes later, and I managed to shift a fraction of his body. Just enough to free myself. Toothless, of course, didn’t care; he was too busy lying in the sun.

My finger went right into his chest. “I wouldn’t call falling on me an appropriate response to me climbing on you. Maybe you didn’t notice, but there’s a size difference between us; plus, you wouldn’t even have noticed me if I didn’t help you out.”

Toothless ignored me. Even jumping on him didn’t get much of a response.

“Oh, Toothless . . .” I slapped him playfully. He moaned and shoved me aside, so I just leisurely rolled back on him. Comfy.

He sighed. Then shook me off and rolled to his feet. And stepped on me. _Twice_. Good thing I was getting used to it.

“You’re not in a good move today.” I nudged his head. “Come on. Don’t you want to play?”

He groaned and plopped down a few feet away. So I did what any reasonable person would do and climbed onto his back. Again. This time, he looked at me curiously.

His wings began to unfurl.

My heart pounded with some unknown fear. “Toothless, what . . . WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Before the words even fully left my lips, we burst into the sky.

I screamed.

Toothless roared.

I don’t think it was wind whipping past me, but claws, invisible claws that slashed my skin and frenetically tugged at my body. They already had my legs, leaving my arms around Toothless’s neck as the only thing standing between me and a horrible death. Even those were starting to fail; Toothless’s scales, so smooth before, now felt like hard stones as they dug into my flesh.

“Toothless . . .!”I barely managed to choke the word past the bubble of terror in my throat. Even so, the word was ripped away by the wind, which howled in my ears as if to taunt me.

Suddenly, I became aware that we were tilting. That we weren’t exactly parallel with the ground anymore . . .

The force of Toothless’s turn bashed me against his back, breaking what little hold I had on him. Next thing I knew, he was speeding away and I was going down, down . . .

This was it. This time, I was going to die. For real.

I could barely even feel myself. I don’t think my brain could grasp the scope of horror and speed I was experiencing and so, just shut itself off to preserve my sanity. Or maybe the gravity of the situation (no pun intended) just hadn’t sunk in yet. But it would. Oh, it _would_.

Something hard smacked into my spine, like someone had thrown a rock at me (as if I wasn’t going through enough!) Instinctively I tried to turn, only to nearly get my nose bitten off as Toothless snapped at my vest. He was almost directly above me, wings folded tightly to his side, claws reaching out for my clothes, like a cat swiping at a fish.

It took him three tries, but then he finally got hold. His wings snapped open, and the force of the air bent them back so far I thought they would snap. I’m not even sure we slowed down at all, just started going more sideways instead of down. Sideways was good, though. Any direction that was not straight towards the ground was fine with me.

Finally, we levelled out. Toothless skimmed over the tree, me attached to his claws. It would have been exhilarating, if I wasn’t grabbing onto him for dear life and screaming my head off!

We landed messily in a patch of mud. Toothless skidded forwards, tripping over my limp body, and face-planted into a brown puddle. Slowly, he wiped the mud off his face, and then turned to glare at me.

I scowled. “Are you honestly blaming me for this? Earth to Toothless, but I’m not a dragon. I don’t have wings!” I flapped my arms for emphasis. “See? One hundred percent wingless.”

He barked, showing his teeth. I bared my teeth back.

As he stomped away, I shouted, “I’m being serious! You can’t just take off and expect me to hang on. I’m not like the others; I’m not that strong. I’d need something to hold me in place, like a . . . like . . .”

Like a saddle.


	17. Chapter 17

“Hiccup?”

“Dad! Did I wake you? Sorry, didn’t mean to do that. I was just finishing up.” I scrambled to collect my papers. Dad may tolerate most of my antics, but I doubt that learning that I was designing a saddle for dragons would go over well.

Dad sighed, and walked into my room. He snatched the papers right out of my hands, and without even bothering to look at them, asked, “What is this?”

I shrugged in what I hoped what a harmless manner. “Oh, you know. Just a few doodles. Nothing important. Now if I could have those back . . .”

Dad’s arm fell to his side, temporarily taking the papers out of my reach. “Hiccup, remember what happened last time you tried out one of your ‘designs’? You nearly got yourself killed.”

“We’re Vikings,” I pointed out. “That’s just a normal, everyday occurrence for us.”

“I’m being serious, Hiccup. And even if that is true, you’re . . .” Dad grimaced and awkwardly finished, “. . . you.”

I said, “That’s descriptive.”

“Hiccup!” Dad tugged at his beard in frustration. “You need to stop this!”

“What exactly is . . . this?”

“You know.” He flicked his hand in my general direction. “This.”

I frowned. “You just gestured to all of me.”

Silence followed. Dad stared at me. I stared at anything that wasn’t Dad.

“Can I have those back?” I asked quietly.

Dad glanced sharply at my sketches, as if just remembering he had them. The look he gave me . . . for a few moments, I was convinced he was going to say no and toss them in the fireplace. But he handed them over. Not happily, mind you.

“Think about what I said,” Dad told me.

I took a deep breath. “I will. I do.”

Something in his face shifted. “Alright.”

A pang of hurt went through my chest. I could hear it, the disbelief, the pure inability to understand that yes, I had been trying my best to be like the others. And the disappointment. I always heard that.

I said loudly, “I’m trying, okay? It’s not my fault I wasn’t born with a sword in my hand.”

“I never said you don’t try,” Dad said. “You’ve always worked hard at what you do, but that’s the problem. You’re always off in your own little world doing strange things. I don’t understand why you can’t put those aside and just act like the others.”

“That’s because I’m not like them.” I flexed my arm, showing just how little meat was on it. “Dad, I’m not going to be wrestling wolves anytime soon.”

“You don’t know that,” Dad said desperately. “Wolves are easy after dragons.”

“And once again, might I say: I don’t want to fight them.”

“Hiccup . . .”

I cut him off. “Yeah, I know. I get it. Start fighting dragons. No more of . . . this.”

Dad stared at me, the lines on his face displaying the tiniest hint of guilt. “Get some sleep.”

I stared at my sketches as he left. My sketches that were so abnormal and un-Viking-like. Before, they had seemed so majestic – a door to a brand new world.

Now, part of me wanted to burn them.

I didn’t. Instead, I let them flutter to the ground, knowing Dad’s cause was useless. It wasn’t like one day, I would hit a growth spurt and become the mightiest of them all. I was just me. A runt. A blunder. A Hiccup. Whatever I was, it definitely wasn’t a Viking.

With that thought came bitterness, and with bitterness came defiance. I snatched my sketches up. I knew I wasn’t a Viking, I was just me. So, I would just have to be the best me that anyone could possibly be.

I grabbed my quill and set to work. They could all go ahead and fight their dragons, but me? I had different plans.

* * *

By the time I realized I needed a bit of assistance, it was early morning (as in the part of morning where no one was awake yet). I hadn’t slept all night, and still wasn’t sleepy. In fact, it had been a while since I felt this energetic. So, with the stars still visible in the sky, I stole some fish from the smokehouse, and crept into the arena.

I made my way to the cages, running my hand along the wall. I don’t think any of the dragons were awake, but who was I to know? Even though I could honesty say I knew more about dragons than anyone at this point, I still didn’t know basic things about them like their sleeping patterns. But I wasn’t interested in that: I needed to study a bit of anatomy. Sure, these dragons weren’t Toothless, but some of the arena dragons had a fairly similar build. So, I unlocked and kicked open one of the food flaps . . .

A green blur rushed out. Before I could react, there was a Terrible Terror standing a couple of feet away from me, panting like a dog.

I raised my hand. “Uh, hi?”

The Terror blinked.

And then it was _everywhere_.

Claws dug into my back. Then my front. Then my shoulders. All the while, it gnawed on my ears, and my arms and whatever else it could find.

I tried to grab it, and might have grazed its scales, but for such a tiny thing, it was _fast_. It slipped through my fingers like water, and continued on its rampage.

“Fish, I got fish! Here!”

I pulled one out from under my vest, and held it out as far from me as possible.

The Terror appeared. It crawled towards the fish, winding around my arm like a snake before lunging and grabbing it with its greedy jaws.

I stared as it hung from the fish, growling.

I let it drop.

The Terror swallowed it whole.

It licked its lips. Then, just like Toothless had so very long ago, leapt at me and buried its snout into my vest. So, I gave it another. While it was eating that, I checked myself out; for all the gnawing the Terror had done, I didn’t seem to have many injuries, just very red and sore skin.

“You like that?” I took out another fish and dangled it above the Terror, who went up on his hind legs in an attempt to get it. “Fetch!”

The Terror took off after the flung fish. I sat down, took out my last one, and no sooner than I had done that was the Terror sitting in front of me.

Wow, that thing was fast.

I held the fish up, and the Terror chirped, sidling towards me. It wasn’t quite willing to get on my lap like I wanted, but it was certainly willing to get close. It kept creeping towards me, lurching forwards, and then retreating a few steps away. When it actually did grab the fish, it immediately tried to tug it out of my hands, growling the entire time.

I smiled, and pulled the fish – and the Terror – close to me. The dragon didn’t seem to mind this, and instead focused on its snack. And I took advantage of its stillness. I didn’t touch it, I wasn’t that bold, but I studied the way it was put together and how its body curved. I would still have to confirm the saddle’s design with Toothless, but at least this would give me a start.

 _Plop_. I blinked as the Terror’s tiny weight dropped onto my leg. It sniffed me, pawed at my vest, and squawked with surprise when I held it open. I let the Terror stick its head in there and sniff around.

And then . . . well . . . it kind of burrowed under my shirt.

It was similar to having a snake inside your clothes, and my arms were immediately covered in goosebumps. A shudder made my fingers splay strangely as I groped for the dragon, only for the Terror to slither out of reach.

Okay . . . stay calm. It hadn’t done anything yet, and I don’t think it was malicious enough to spit fire in a place like that.

The Terror’s head suddenly popped out of my collar. It purred, and looked around the arena curiously.

“I can’t believe you fit in there,” I said. Here I was, a tiny little Viking, and yet this Terror still had no problem hiding inside my clothes. It was a runt among its kind. A little fishbone just like me.

“You mind if I call you that?” I asked. “Fishbone?”

Fishbone, Toothless . . . my dragon names had something to be desired. But who would complain? Nobody else thought to name dragons.

Fishbone dove back into my shirt, and I felt him (I still have no idea if Fishbone is a guy or girl. Let’s just leave it at male) curl up in there. I smiled, and lightly patted the general area where he was.

Just when we got settled, just when I decided I should probably put Fishbone back, I heard a voice.

“Hiccup, is that you?”

My mouth dropped open. “D-dad?”

“Hiccup . . .” Dad approached, and Fishbone - still under my clothes, but thank the gods, he was tiny and on the side of me Dad couldn’t see– squirmed in response. “What are you doing here?”

I stumbled over my words. “I . . . I . . . that is a good question! I was just, you know, investigating. Checking out the battleground. Like a real Viking?”

Dad sighed. “Is this about our disagreement last night? Hiccup, what I said . . .”

“It’s fine. Really. See, I’m happy.” I gave him a strained smile.

“Come back home.”

“Sorry?”

“Home,” Dad repeated. “It’s still early. Go home and sleep a little.”

“Sure thing!” I said. I stepped in the direction of Fishbone’s cage. “Just let me take care of something . . .”

Dad stepped forward. “Hiccup, I mean it. I’m sorry about what I said.”

“I know,” I told him. “I just really need to -”

“Let’s go home, alright? Forget that conversation ever happened.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, but I _really_ need . . .”

He raised his hand, and I just knew he was going to put it on my shoulder or something to make me go home. And if he did grab me, he ran a strong risk of bumping Fishbone, and then I was done for.

“Okay! Great idea!” I threw my hands up and slyly moved out of his reach. “Let’s go home. You lead.”

He did, and I followed. I secretly tried to bunch my vest over the spot where Fishbone was hiding, and then I walked straight back home with my father ahead, and with a Terrible Terror still hiding in my shirt.

This could only end well.


	18. Chapter 18

“Yes, I know, Dad. I forgive you . . . yes, this is a nice talk we’re having . . . if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed now!”

I practically broke down my own door. Well, seeing as it’s me, that’s an bit of an exaggeration, but the general idea still stands. I slammed it shut behind me, breathing heavily, and then slowly backed away. Fishbone, startled by the commotion, began to squirm.

“Shh . . . shh!” I winced as the Terror crawled up my shirt and poked his head out. He looked around, eyes wide, and then scampered onto my shoulder. He opened his mouth –

Quickly, I shut it with my fingers. I looked at him sternly and said, “ _Shh!_ ”

Fishbone blinked. He flapped his wings and took off.

“No, no . . .” I ran after the dragon – quietly, of course – as he flew up to the rafters. There, he perched, almost panting as he studied the strange environment that was my room.

“ _Fishbone_!” I hissed. I jerked my thumb downwards when he stared at me. “Get back here!”

He groomed his wing. He understood me; I _knew_ he did. He just didn’t care.

“Stupid Terror,” I muttered. I grabbed a chair and dragged it over. Fishbone watched lazily as I hopped on it in order to grab him.

It would have worked if I were about three feet taller.

Apparently, he found that funny. With his tail draped over the rafter, he hung upside down like some bizarre bat, and swung back and forth while giggling at me. I say giggling because his laughter was sharp and high-pitched like hiccups, unlike that help-me-there’s-something-in-my-throat sound that Toothless made.

I scowled. I snatched up a broom and prepared to fight.

As the wood neared, Fishbone growled and bit down on the handle – just as I had planned. With one tug, the little dragon came off the rafter. Now, he was attached to the broom, but that was still an improvement.

Terrors didn’t really have a scruff, not like dogs or cats did, so instead I picked him up by his skull, if I had to give a description. He was still trying really hard to shake the broom around, but alas, as all of us tiny beings must learn, it was really hard to carry something bigger than you in your teeth.

“Got you.” I smirked and bopped his nose. “Not so –”

He _bit me_.

I didn’t shriek that loudly. Okay, so maybe it was a little loud, but you could barely hear it over the crash as I fell off the chair. Immediately after that, I heard Dad’s door open, too.

“Hiccup?”

“Uh, I just stubbed my toe!” I shouted. “Ow! Really need to start watching where I’m going . . .”

I listened. I didn’t hear Dad walking towards my room, so I assumed I was okay. Fishbone had also frozen when Dad spoke, but now he was climbing down my chest.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” As expected, Fishbone ignored me and crawled towards –

“Hey, hey! Not those!” I swooped in and rescued my sketches from the Terror’s greedy mouth . . . only to realize he had been eyeing my chair. Its design must have offended him, because he immediately set to destroying it. My efforts to save it were in vain, for he clung valiantly, and ignored all my attempts to pry him loose.

I did, however, pry the chair loose from the floor.

It made a big bang when it – and the attached Terror - flew against the wall.

I gently lifted my hand . . . and smacked my face against it.

“Hiccup?”

“Uh . . . just doing some redecorating. I thought . . . ack!”

The second I saw that chair on fire, I forgot all about my lie. Thankfully, since Fishbone was such a small dragon, it was a pretty small fire, and easy to put out. Of course, that wasn’t the _real_ problem.

“Hiccup?” The door started to open. I kicked the chair – Fishbone and all – behind my bed.

“Hi, Dad.” I smiled and waved.

“What are you doing?” he asked flatly.

I shuffled my feet. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he repeated.

I gave him my best smile. One that quickly turned into a grimace when I realized that Fishbone was trying to climb onto the bed.

“Nothing,” I said. “In fact, I’m going to bed, right . . . now!” I made a show of opening the blanket, conveniently shoving Fishbone underneath them at the same time. Then I wriggled into bed, conveniently pinning Fishbone with my arm at the same time.

“See? Sleeping!”

“Alright . . .” Suddenly, Dad’s nose wrinkled. “Do you smell smoke?”

“. . . No?”

“I thought . . .” Dad shook his head. “Goodnight, Hiccup.”

I said goodnight back, then waited until I heard the distant click of Dad’s door closing.

I let out the loudest, longest groan of my life. Fishbone crawled out of the bed to see what the racket was about.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked. I crooked a finger and carefully scratched under his chin. His body snapped straight, but gradually, he relaxed. He rubbed against my neck, purring . . .

I smiled. When I wasn’t chasing him and he wasn’t biting me, he was actually quite cute. He had those big eyes and the rounded face that a baby animal might have, and he made tiny growling sounds that were kind of like purrs. Plus, he was tiny, which was a bonus in my books -

I’m not sure what happened. One moment, his claws were digging into my shoulder as he enjoyed himself; the next, he had fallen off my shoulder and into my lap. He was belly-up with his eyes closed, and shuddered once before lying still.

“. . . you’re not dead, right?”

I poked him in the stomach. He made a noise, so he was okay.

I scowled. “You are so much trouble.”

Fishbone continued to do nothing.

I moved him aside, and curled up under my covers. I had no idea what I was going to do with this dragon.

Fishbone rolled back to his feet. He scurried over to me, leaned over my face, and then tried to burrow into my shirt. I pushed him underneath the blanket instead. He wriggled about for a minute or so, and then his head popped out.

He stretched forwards, and nibbled on my nose. Lightly. It was almost like being tickled.

He laid his head on my chest, and closed his eyes.

I watched him for a few minutes, before I was finally comfortable enough to close my own eyes (half of me was convinced that he was faking, and would start biting when I let my guard down). But he stayed still. I stayed still. And we just . . . were.

Me and Toothless, sure, we had our moments – great moments, unmatched ones, don’t get me wrong – but Toothless had never done anything like this. Toothless had never let himself go like this, let his guard down while knowing that if I had the urge to, I could snap his neck in a heartbeat. And yet this dragon, who I had known for so short a time, _did_. Dragons shouldn’t do that. _Vikings_ wouldn’t do that.

I whispered into the dark, “Everything we know about you guys is wrong . . .”

* * *

I stayed in my room all of the next day. Dad must have still been feeling pretty bad over what happened between us last night, so he didn’t bother me. He did knock on the door to tell me to come down to the Great Hall for dinner, but I shooed him away with a promise I would be there soon.

And I would be, once I put Fishbone back.

He happily let me stuff him into my shirt, and slithered around in there while I tiptoed my way to the Arena. If tradition held true, then everybody should be feasting in the Great Hall and I was in the clear. So far, it seemed all right. Even the mice seemed absent.

I opened the door to the Arena. It was empty.

Fishbone’s cage was the first in line, almost built directly into the wall. Ironically, his was one of the biggest too (it happened to be the only one available at the time we had caught him). Still, when I peeked through the flap and saw how barren it was, it made me cold.

I yanked Fishbone out of my shirt. “Okay, time to go home.”

Light glimmered off his fangs as he yawned. His tongue darted out, slapping over his eye before retreating. He looked around . . .

He went rigid.

With all the strength his tiny body could muster, he thrashed and tried to dive back inside my shirt. A sick feeling built up inside me, and despite the fact I wanted to, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“Shh, shh!” I said frantically. “It’s okay. Fishbone, you’re going to be okay –”

He squawked harshly, making me jump. But he had stopped struggling, and instead was staring intensely at the small flap separating him from the cage.

“I’m sorry.” I gulped and crouched down.

As soon as he figured out what my intentions were, he started to fight again. This time, his claws hooked into my flesh as he panicked. I wanted so badly to calm him, to talk to him and tell him that there was nothing to be afraid of, that he would be okay in the end. But he smelt of smoke now, and we were mere moments before he would spit a fireball in my face.

So, I shoved him inside the cage, and shut the flap. The entire time I worked on the lock, I could hear him on the other side scratching at the stone, crying. The rock even heated up as he flamed it. And my hands shook as I worked, fumbling once, allowing him to poke his snout out before I forced him inside again.

The lock clicked.

I stepped back.

Fishbone knew what the click meant as much as I did. His cries escalated into a full-grown wail.

And then silence.

Part of me wanted to check inside, to make sure he was still alive, but that would be too cruel. I couldn’t tease him like that. So, I did the only thing I could:

I turned and ran.


	19. Chapter 19

“Tooooooothless! Come on! You can’t actually be scared.”

I sighed, and looked upwards. Toothless was precariously balanced on some branches, eyes wide as he observed my homemade saddle and me. While he wasn’t spooked enough to leave completely, my first attempt to secure the saddle to him had sent him right into the trees. Granted, part of that was my fault; I probably should have come up with a better plan than throwing it on his back.

“Seriously, it’s not going to hurt you. Look!” I held the limp saddle up, then dropped it on the ground and kicked it. “See? Dead as a rock.”

Toothless gashed his teeth. He clung tight to his perch.

I laid down, using the saddle as a pillow. “Oh, yes. Look at me, Toothless: I’m in _so_ much danger right now.”

I lazily rolled over to my stomach. By the time I looked up again, Toothless was gone.

Well, not quite. He had migrated to another, lower set of branches. He took a cautious step forward, gradually slithering towards the saddle and me. I picked myself up and moved, leaving Toothless to investigate freely.

He crawled over to the saddle and loomed over it. He inhaled deeply.

Then he grabbed the poor thing in his mouth and shook.

I winced, fighting the urge to rescue my creation. I had tried to make sure the saddle could endure some rough handling, so I was hoping it would survive . . . still, Toothless wasn’t just biting. He was whipping it around, slamming it into the ground and grinding it into the dirt.

“Alright, that’s enough!” I walked straight forwards, intending to force Toothless away from my saddle. Which I did.

Toothless backed away. Although his teeth were now safety tucked away within his gums, his mouth was open in a half-formed snarl. His back curved like a whip, to the point where I was worried it might actually snap.

Time to bring out my secret weapon.

Smirking, I casually revealed a handful of Toothless’s favourite grass. At once, the wariness faded from his eyes, replaced by dilated pupils. His purr rumbled through my body as he rubbed his snout against my hand, his tongue flicking out to taste the precious grass.

I slung the saddle over his back.

The shock of having a strange object draped over him was enough to knock Toothless out of his daze. He went still, torn between fleeing and staying where the grass was.

When I reached under his belly to fasten the saddle’s straps, he took a cautious step away.

“Toothless . . .” I scratched under his chin with my other hand, wanting to reassure him. “It’s okay. It’s not going to hurt you. Trust me.”

Rubbing his flank with one hand, I grabbed for the strap again. My shoulder pressed against his side, and I could feel the tenseness of his body. But he didn’t run. He didn’t move, and with a few quick movements, I lashed the saddle to his back.

He growled. Not an angry growl, but a soft, worried growl. Before he could decide how to react, I plopped onto his back, making him flinch, and secured myself to the saddle.

I leaned back. “Success.”

Toothless warbled. He tried to see what I was up to, but his head couldn’t quite turn enough. Not like that stopped him. He kept trying and trying, spinning and spinning.

And then we (well, he) were standing. On his hind legs, he continued to turn, wings held out for balance. It was a bizarre feeling; my upper body flopped back, desiring nothing but to obey the call of gravity, but my lower half stayed firmly in place.

Finally, he found that magical place. He stared at me, head slightly tilted to one side. I waved.

As he lowered himself down to four legs again, I breathed in relief. All that spinning had made me dizzy and –

“Toothless, what are you doing - ?”

He took off.

No, not into the sky. I would have started screaming if that happened.

“Tooth– !”

My protest was muffled by a mouthful of leaves. Then I was slapped in the face by some leaves, and nearly decapitated by a branch as Toothless raced through the undergrowth. He leapt over logs and at trees, claws clinging to the trunk for a brief moment before he was off in pursuit of his next goal. And like a hapless fish caught on a hook, I was dragged along.

And he stopped. My entire body lurched forward, stopped only by the straps binding the saddle and me together. And just when I thought I was safe, his head snapped up, and our skulls collided.

Not that he seemed to notice.

“At least I know the saddle works,” I muttered. When I saw him trying to look at me, I scowled. “Yes, I’m still here.”

Under my hands, I felt his shoulder muscles stretch as his wings expanded.

“Toothless . . .”

And that was the only trigger he needed.

“Whoa!” I lurched forward, wrapping my arms around Toothless’s neck by instinct. True, his previous frolic through the forest has been much wilder than this, but we had been on the ground and not . . .

We were in the air.

 _We were in the air_.

I knew I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t stop myself from leaning sideways, from peering down at the land below that was steadily growing smaller . . .

Okay, screaming time.

That lasted about ten seconds before I got bored.

“Toothless,” I squeaked, “maybe you’re not aware, but we are _really_ high up right now, and we’re . . . we’re flying.”

And we were. It wasn’t like last time where I was an unwilling (okay, so maybe I hadn’t been completely willing this time either) participant who was one slip away from falling to his doom. The saddle, despite Toothless’s fun with it earlier, was doing its job well.

“Toothless, we’re flying,” I repeated in awe.

A rumble rolled through his body.

His body tilted. For a moment, I sat upon a hump as he pointed downwards, wings folding back to his side. And before I could register what was happening, there was nothing keeping us afloat.

My face went pale.

The wind’s roar drowned out my shriek. How could something as delicate as air feel so hard? It felt like there was a giant hand wrapping around my waist, prying me off Toothless’s back. Shards of air lashed my cheeks as we plummeted towards the ocean, which churned and frothed as if caught in a hurricane.

But we were still ways above. My stomach was in my throat, ready to pop out if I gave it the chance. Once I got past that feeling though, and ignored the air tearing at my body, and blinked past all the tears in my watery eyes, _and_ reassured myself that yes, I was not about to die, I became aware of another emotion. It was like a hot coal smouldering in the middle of my being, radiating warmth:

Pure glee.

I cried out in excitement at the same time Toothless that roared. In one bold move, I unhooked my arms and held them out to my sides. The wind caught them immediately, making them shake under the force.

Just when I started to worried about actually crashing, Toothless’s wings snapped open. The membrane between the bones bulged as it caught the air. We slowed surprisingly fast and in the ten or twenty seconds it took us to reach the ocean’s waves, Toothless had regained complete control. He tilted sideways, a wingtip skimming the water as we turned. I could see my own wobbly reflection on the ocean’s surface and like a child, I reached out for it.

With one flap of his wings, we soared upwards. The air was crisp, biting. I dug my heels in, bracing myself for whatever came next.

“Go, go!” I cried.

Toothless voiced his pleasure. His wings worked harder, propelling us faster. Each wing beat vibrated through his body and up my spine, almost like it was me beating my wings, not him. We spiralled higher, _higher_. And for one brief, frozen moment, I was upside down, watching Toothless’s body curve as he completed his loop.

And time sped up again. A light fog closed in, hiding our surroundings, but not before I caught sight of Toothless’s target: a sprawling, labyrinth of solid stone. There was no mistaking his intent.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

He didn’t even hesitate. I steadied myself and set my eyes ahead. I trusted him.

The first pillars came out of nowhere, charging straight at us like wolves in an ambush. But Toothless was quick. He dived sharply, fitting himself – and me – between a gap in the rocks before continuing onwards.

And so it went on. Up. Down. This way, that way. We were wherever the path forward lay. I could feel the rock walls an inch from my back, so close to scraping off whatever skin lay upon there. But there was no fear, just the cool steel of determination. Like it was me flying instead.

All too soon, we were in the clear. We glided lazily instead. There was no visible sign of the maze we had just navigated; Toothless wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Toothless, that . . . that was amazing.” I twisted and stared back at the bank of fog. “Let’s do it again!”

I tugged on his head. Toothless sighed good-naturedly.

He started to turn.


	20. Chapter 20

“By my calculations, they don’t have much firepower. Not that it takes much fire to make things go up in smoke, but they shouldn’t be as hard to fight as the Gronckle. But they are really fast . . .”

“Fishlegs, not that I don’t appreciate your information, but you’re making me nervous.”

Fishlegs blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh. Sorry.”

Seeing his nervousness, I gave him a gentle punch in the arm. “Come on. We’ve fought the Terrible Terror before. And besides, it always goes after Tuffnut first. I don’t see why things would be different today.”

We exchanged grins, recalling how the Terror had developed a fondness for gnawing on Tuffnut’s nose.

The Arena, Berk’s most impressive and longest-surviving structure, came into view, and I slumped over like I was being asked to clean an outhouse. Fishlegs noticed. He glanced around quickly, then whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” I straightened up. “I just . . . I don’t know. This isn’t exactly the highlight of my day.”

“I know what you mean. I thought that once the training started, I would be more like the others . . .” He trailed off, frowning. “I feel like more of a distraction than a warrior.”

“You’ll be fine,” I said. “You got the build. The weight. You just need more practice.”

He seemed to mull over that. “Maybe.”

Right before we entered the arena, his steps stopped. I followed suit, watching him curiously.

“Hiccup, you’ll be fine, too,” he said quietly.

I bit my lip. I appreciated what he said, but it still made me uncomfortable since I had no plans to end up fighting dragons.

“Maybe,” I said evasively. “But until then, we better be careful during the raids.”

“Oh!” Fishlegs suddenly started rummaging through his pockets. “Remember when we were trying to make dragon lures?”

“Yes . . . did you get one to work?” I said cautiously, not sure whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

“Well . . . no,” he admitted. “I tried, but all these birds kept attacking me. But I also worked on the ones you said could be used as dragon repellents. Here!”

He dropped a wooden whistle into my hands.

“They’re pretty loud,” he warned. “Which is good, because dragons _hate_ noise.”

“Thanks.” I stuffed it into my pocket. “Now, shall we?”

We were the last arrivals. The others were already armed, lounging carelessly in front of the door containing the Terror . . . all except Tuffut, who was fearfully holding a shield in front of his face. Or his nose, rather.

“There you two are. Hurry up, now!” Gobber planted his foot against the door. “Everyone ready?”

“Oh, yeah!” Snotlout said.

“Bring it.” I could picture Astrid’s sharp smile.

Gobber chuckled, and opened the cage.

A moment passed. Then another. Fishbone came out smoothly, almost like a snake. Compared to usual, the Terror was moving slowly today; normally, he would have made at least one attempt to get at Tuffnut’s nose by now. Instead, he remained in place, studying the Vikings around him with an almost bored manner.

Then his eyes landed on me.

At his next action, everyone –even Gobber –paused. In all the times we had fought the Terror before, we had never heard him _snarl_.

There was no warning. It was only panic and instinct that saved my face from becoming a piece of roast meat. And before I could recover from that, teeth clamped down on my cheek, harder than they had bit me before, harder than any of the times he had bit Tuffnut.

“Argh! Get off!”

Pain flared all over the left side of my face. I bopped Fishbone on the nose – significantly harder than I meant to – knocking him loose. By this time, the others had recovered from their shock. Snotlout and Ruffnut charged, weapon raised high –

But though Terrors were small, they were fast. Fishbone flew right at Snotlout, veering out of the way right when Snotlout attacked, and his swing ended up hitting Ruffnut in the gut instead (She was okay. Gobber was smart enough not to trust anyone with sharp weapons yet. Except Astrid because she’s, well, you know, Astrid). Ruffnut gasped, more out of surprise than pain, and then turned on Snotlout with a vengeance.

“Over there!” Astrid shouted. Her finger traced Fishbone’s path as he weaved through the air. Even his fireball didn’t phase her.

Tuffnut marched forwards and cracked his knuckles. “I got this.”

Just when Fishbone lit Tuffnut’s hair on fire, Fishlegs said to me, “Uh, Hiccup, you’re bleeding.”

I touched my cheek. My fingers came back red. Wow. Fishbone must be really angry at me. Not that he didn’t have a good reason . . .

There was a commotion. Right when I dragged my mind out of its daze, Astrid shouted, “Guys, watch out!”

Fishbone _literally_ bounced off my chest. Somehow, the tiny dragon had smacked into me hard enough to knock me down. He hovered for a second, then landed on my chest with more force than I would have thought possible.

My brain temporarily stopped as I got a good view of his furious face.

“Stay still, Hiccup –”

Fishlegs’s attempt at a ‘rescue’ ended quickly when Fishbone spat fire in his direction.

“Okay, I get you’re upset,” I said quietly.

He lunged. I managed to get my arm in the way, and winced as he tried to burrow through it and get at my face. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but it probably wasn’t my nose.

“Got you!” There was a sharp clang as Astrid knocked Fishbone aside with her shield. She threw the shield at him, and while that wouldn’t have been enough to take down a different dragon, its weight proved sufficient enough to pin him by the wing. Fishbone’s claws made furrows in the ground as he struggled and started to wail.

Astrid glanced at me, took note of the blood running down my cheek, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I wiped my face, and then wiped that hand on my pants. “Just a flesh wound.”

Astrid nodded. She squinted at Fishbone. “What’s its problem?”

“I don’t know, but I liked it better when it was going after Tuffnut,” Snotlout grunted from behind us. He stomped to where we were, rubbing a bright red spot on his arm. Apparently, even though I had been the target, Fishbone had racked up quite a bit of collateral damage.

I rolled to my feet. Fishbone was still trying to free himself. I approached without speaking, and he stilled. Only for a second. The next second, he was trying to lunge at me.

“You feed it some weird mushrooms or something, Gobber?” Snotlout asked.

“Nothing but fish,” Gobber said. “They won’t take anything else.”

“Weird,” Snotlout snorted. He leisurely circled Fishbone, driving the poor Terror nuts. As Fishbone went after his shoe, Snotlout said, “You want a piece of me? Here!”

Fishbone yelped as Snotlout’s boot crashed into his chin. He hissed, taking a couple of tiny steps away. Snotlout chuckled, went in for another . . .

Fishbone dodged, and the tip of Snotlout’s boot caught the shield that pinned him. Free, the Terror spread his wings, charging Snotlout with no small bit of vengeance –

Only this time Snotlout had been expecting it. He caught the small dragon an inch away from his face, although his triumphant grin was quickly wiped off his face when Fishbone opened his mouth –

And nothing.

“You’re out of shots,” Snotlout said slowly. He shook the dragon. “Aren’t you a feisty little sucker?”

He made a kissy face at Fishbone while he said that, snickering at the Terror’s useless attempts to rip off his lips. With a dismissive manner, he threw Fishbone to the ground, and then stepped on his tail. A furious growl followed, but for all his bravado, the only thing Fishbone could reach was his captor’s boot, and that was too thick for the dragon’s teeth to pierce.

“Hey, guys, it’s out of flame!”

A sudden shiver of dread made its way down my spine as the others closed in. There was a word to describe the way they moved, and it was predatory. They didn’t even seem completely human anymore, but like werewolves closing in on their prey.

I tugged on Gobber’s sleeve. “Okay, we’ve defeated this _terrifying_ dragon. Shouldn’t we put him back in the cage?”

Gobber waved me off. “Nah, let them experiment a bit. You should go have some fun, too. You’ll be surprised how much you learn.”

“Gobber –”

A dragon’s shriek drowned out my protest.

I had no idea what happened, but when I spun around, it was to see Fishbone trying to back away from the twins, almost limping. Ruffnut was unarmed, but her brother held a weapon in his hand, and I had absolutely no idea what –

Tuffnut’s grip shifted.

“ _Stop_!”

Everyone jumped as I ran between Fishbone and the twins, startling even myself. Mouth dry, I smacked my lips and stuttered, “You can’t . . . we can’t . . . we’re not supposed to _kill_ them, remember?”

“I’m not going to kill it,” Tuffnut promised. “Not today.”

He and his sister shared a grin and a cackle.

“You can’t!” I said. “If you hurt him, then . . . he won’t be dangerous next time, and that would be bad. Right, Gobber?”

Gobber paused. “Hiccup has a point. Better put the beastie back.”

There were three loud groans. I fought back a relieved sigh as Snotlout shifted his weight off Fishbone’s tail. Fishbone crawled away from him, and by extension, towards me. I didn’t think about it; I automatically scooped him up, and he went very still; he may be a vengeful dragon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know I was the only thing standing between them and him.

As everyone realized I was holding a dragon, silence set in. Crap. _Double_ crap. My hands shook, not from fear of Fishbone, but fear of what everyone else was thinking.

I practically crashed into the door to Fishbone’s cage. In one smooth move, I shoved him through the flap and latched it.

“Well, that’s it for today!” Gobber said, neatly shattering the awkwardness that had engulfed us. “I’ll see you all for your next lesson, eh?”

Everyone said their version of a goodbye, and I did my best to sneak away with them. I almost made it, got all the way outside –

And then Astrid grabbed me by the shoulder.

Eyes narrowed, she hissed, “ _Him_?”

“Sure, he . . . uh, it, looks like a guy. Don’t you think so?” I tried my best to give me a toothy smile.

A suspicious pause. She slowly pried her fingers loose. “It’s just odd. The first time you actually touch a dragon, let alone get _near_ one, you . . .” She trailed off, looking confused and worried. And worst of all, thoughtful.

My smile faded. She couldn’t have possibly figured it out.

Right?


	21. Chapter 21

I was a nervous wreck the rest of the day. Or, to further outline the implications of that little detail, I was a bumbling, stuttering fool. In total, I accidentally set three fires (all of which I extinguished before anyone had noticed . . . except for the one in the house); nearly smashed my own thumb with a hammer at the forge; tripped and strew the sketches of Toothless’s saddle all over my floor; and I spilled water on my shirt. But that last part was pretty ordinary, so let’s forget about it.

Night came. I watched through my window light after light went out, until all that was left were the stars and the fires in the watchtowers. A dark shroud set over Berk; it was a new moon today, giving the village that extra bit of murkiness, one that would serve me well.

I could hear Dad’s heavy snores as I walked past his room. Ever since his return from the failed hunt for the Dragon Nest, he had stayed up night after night until he passed out from exhaustion, combing through his sea charts in hopes of finally finding that secret place. So far, he’d had little luck.

The front door creaked as I pushed it open. A sharp gust forced its way past me, making the candles inside tremble. I hugged my vest closer, and stepped outside, letting the door fall shut on its own. I didn’t move right away; instead I stayed completely still, checking that no one was watching me. True, that was rather unlikely – who would want to watch boring old me? – but Astrid . . . I didn’t know what was up with her, but she was definitely suspicious. Of something.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. No one in Berk would have had the patience to linger outside my house all day and wait for me to leave. Especially not Astrid. She was a warrior through and through, and unlike me it seemed, understood the value of a good night’s sleep.

With that in mind, I made my way back to the Arena. Not before snagging a lantern on the way of course; there was no light except the natural kind inside that place.

The Arena had always been an open, lonely place, but now that feeling was tenfold. The dim halo of my lantern didn’t even reach any of the walls, and the sky above was so dark it was like standing in a cave. If I squinted hard, I could see the iron bars crossing the sky, which didn’t make me feel any better.

I groped my way to Fishbone’s cage, and set the lantern down. This was it. If Fishbone was still mad at me, there would be no Astrid or Gobber to save me. Not to mention that in darkness like this, I would be a sitting duck for the Terror.

I unlatched the food flap. “Fishbone? You in there, bud?”

He took a long time to emerge. I blame it on the fact he had probably been sleeping. But when he did, it was just to poke his head out.

Quietly, I said, “Hey.”

Yellow eyes blinked. I could feel his gaze sweeping over me, absorbing every inch of my body. He held himself defensively: wings raised and arched, ready to snap open at a moment; weight low to the ground so that he could dive back into his cage. It took a few seconds before I realized how I looked to him, but once I did, I carefully lowered myself to his level.

“Hey,” I repeated.

He eyed me suspiciously. He knew I had saved him in the Arena . . . but I had also betrayed him.

“I brought a peace offering. A wet, slimy fish, just like you like them . . .”

I didn’t even finish before he had swallowed the thing whole. He looked expectedly at me for more.

“You’re lucky I’m used to dealing with a glutton.” I smiled fondly as I thought of Toothless, up until Fishbone slapped me in the face with the fish tail.

“Are we cool?” I held my hand out, held it in the same way I had when Toothless had pressed his –

Fishbone went for my fingers.

“ . . . I’ll take that as a yes.”

Fishbone bounded over and crawled up my arm, settling on my shoulder. He stared at the lantern, as if thinking of biting that, too, but then decided randomly looking into the darkness was more interesting. I smiled.

There was a sudden groan. Not a human one. This one was more like the wail of a falling tree. A dragon, to be exact. Now that I thought about it, Fishbone wasn’t staring at nothing; he was looking in the direction of the cages.

The darkness swallowed up Fishbone’s cage as I walked towards the others. Although I knew that had been a dragon groan, I had no idea which dragon. I was banking on the Gronckle though, as the Nadder tended to sound more birdlike, and the Zippleback had a higher voice.

Of course, it could have been the Nightmare.

I shuddered. The Nightmare was the one dragon us trainees hadn’t faced – for good reason. Plus, it was the same Nightmare that had nearly killed me the night I brought down Toothless, so there was that added bit of creepiness.

I looked back at the other cages.

“Do you think . . . do you think I could handle two dragons?” I asked Fishbone. He seemed pretty tame right now, so the idea was getting more and more inviting . . .

Ah, screw it. I’m going for it.

Fishbone slithered down my arm, watching my fingers move as they worked on the lock. I could hear something moving beyond the door – the Zippleback, no doubt. Would it be in a good mood today, or a grumpy one since I interrupted its sleep? Who knew?

It seemed to be a good one. The Zippleback was already waiting by the time the door swung open. I instinctively threw a hand up (Just in case. You never knew with dragons). The Zippleback leaned forwards and sniffed it, then followed the hand out.

It just had gotten beside me when it spotted Fishbone.

The Zippleback went still. Fishbone continued to have no cares in the world. He panted, then leapt – almost lunged – toward one of the Zippleback’s heads. Before I could even blink, the Zippleback had run back into its cage.

I shook the arm with Fishbone. “That was mean.”

“Hey.” My voice echoed in the cave. “He was just playing. I mean he’s tiny. He’s not actually going to hurt you . . . I’d try bribing you with a fish, but he already ate them.”

I could faintly make out my lantern’s reflection in the Zippleback’s eyes. It wasn’t getting any closer, and probably wouldn’t as long as that annoying troublemaker called Fishbone was on my arm. Thinking quickly, I scooped a rock off, showed it to Fishbone, and then tossed it into the distance.

He went after it.

There, now I could try to coax the Zippleback out. I spoke to him softly, lowly, just a constant barrage of what I hoped were comforting sounds. When he did inch forwards, I moved the same distance back.

The Zippleback emerged out of the darkness . . . right when Fishbone returned. I could _see_ him thinking about whether to attack.

Not on my watch. I kicked him. I meant to shove him aside, but ended up persuading him to figure out how to burrow through my shoes to my toes. I guess that was fine? I mean, he wasn’t going after the poor Zippleback anymore.

“I guess I need a name for you.” Let’s see: we had two heads here. Twins. And there was a famous set of twins . . . But I don’t think the gods would appreciate me naming a dragon after them. So, switching around a letter or two . . .

“Breyr,” I announced to one head. To the other, I said, “You can be Breyja.”

They seemed to like it.

Well, now that I had given them a name, I guess they needed a gender, too. So far, I had two male dragons. So, statistically speaking, this one was most likely a female. So it was. And so it shall be.

Breyr and Breyja sniffed my hand. They refused to press their heads against it (maybe they didn’t trust me _that_ much yet, or maybe that ritual was just a Night Fury thing), but I reached under and rubbed Breyja’s neck anyways. Breyr stared, then huffed in what I thought might be jealously. So, I rubbed her neck, too. It seemed like a good solution, but now Fishbone wanted attention. He jumped and clung to my chest, squawking.

I plucked him from my shirt, rolling my eyes as he gently gnawed on my hands. Breyja and Breyr shook their heads, as if being breaking free of some trance. They eyed the Terror in my grip.

“Let’s try this again.” I kept a tight grip on Fishbone’s midsection. “Breyja and Breyr, this is Fishbone. Fishbone, this is not food.”

Fishbone was perfectly calm, but the Zippleback was already backing up. I followed, thrusting Fishbone into their face.

Finally, Breyr gathered the courage to sniff . . . up until Fishbone tried to bite her. Thanks to my inherent genius, but mostly my irritation at the little brat, I held Fishbone’s jaws shut. He glowered at me.

I held the little dragon up again. Breyr and Breyja seemed to recognize that he was currently harmless, and closed in. Fishbone still tried lunging at them, but they only flinched.

“See,” I crooned, “we can all be friends. _Right, Fishbone_?”

He watched the Zippleback intensely. Probably planning ways to torment her.

“Why don’t we . . . why don’t we make the party a little bigger.” I said, suddenly giddy. I stared at the Nadder’s cage. I already had two dragons out . . . what would be one more?

I shifted Fishbone to my shoulder. Breyr and Breyja followed me to the Nadder’s cage, utterly confused as to what I was doing. But they, too, knew what the click of a lock signified, and their necks snapped straight up to attention.

I put my foot on the door. “Three, two –”

When I opened my eyes a second later, I was squashed between the door and the wall. Fishbone was playing dead on my shoulder.

“Ow . . .” As the pressure lessened, I slid to the ground. The door slowly moved away . . .

Revealing a towering, shadowy figure.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I could see spikey things, lots of spikey things. And a big, black blob that I imagined was a body. The lantern was on the floor behind the things, and its dim light illuminated the underside of a wing, but not much else.

“You must be the Nadder,” I said.

Claws clicked against stone. The Nadder picked its way sideways, circling me, moving into the darkness. I could only keep track of the Nadder by watching where Fishbone was facing.

But at least I could get to the lantern now. With Fishbone clinging to my shoulder, I dove and rolled all in one move . . . realizing afterwards that I had forgotten to grab the lantern while I was rolling. Let’s pretend I didn’t, though. I swung the lantern up, right into the snout of the Nadder.

“Heeeeello.” I took a giant step back.

I could barely see the Nadder’s pupils, so small were they in comparison to the rest of its eye. It had its head angled slightly to the side, keeping me out of its blind spot. The spines on its head were pointed outwards, a behaviour I knew to be an aggressive one.

I had no idea where the Zippleback was at this point. Fishbone was still here, but he was currently crawling over my head and not much help. Just me and the Nadder then.

I held my hand out. Braced myself.

The Nadder drew itself up high. I always thought that, thanks to its body structure, it always had to throw its weight a little forward. But not this time. This guy, from his chest to his head, was perfectly vertical.

“Is my hand offending you?” I lowered it. It didn’t seem to help much.

I grabbed Fishbone and held him out. “Fishbone, help me!”

In retrospect, I should have known better. In retrospect, I should have expected that he would try to flame the other dragon.

I glared at Fishbone. “Thanks for nothing.”

He panted.

Stupid reptile.

And now the Nadder looked angry.

First things first, ditch the Terror. By that, I mean toss him aside. I doubted he would be hurt. Next, try to make amends somehow.

“Those Terrors, huh?” I said, all the while backing away. “They’re so much trouble. You must know that, right? I mean, being a dragon and all.”

The Nadder cocked its head. It looked like it was trying to be parallel to the ground. It jerked back – I realized it was because the Zippleback had slithered up behind me – but the Nadder returned right back to its spot once Breyr and Breyja retreated back into the darkness.

Rock dug into my back. Alright, nowhere to run. This couldn’t go that badly, could it? I mean if it wanted me dead, the Nadder would have shot spikes at me or something.

Cautiously, I raised my hand again.

Its nostrils flared. Unlike Toothless, The Nadder didn’t keep my hand in front as it sniffed, but kept it beside its snout. It would choose one side, tilt its head sideways and sniff, then do the same to the other side.

“You’re awfully twitchy, aren’t you?” I said. An idea dawned in my brain. “Twitch. That seems as good a name as any. And I already got two guys, so you can be a girl, too.”

Satisfied with my hand, Twitch moved on to my wrist.

I smiled. The bottom of her jaw grazed my palm. I curled my hand, letting my nails make contact with the scaly skin.

The Nadder crooned. The more I scratched, the more those head-spines flattened. I took this as a sign that we were cool.

“And one more . . .” I reached for the Gronckle’s cage. I wasn’t crazy enough to go for the Nightmare -

 _Crash_. The entire wall shuddered when the Gronckle slammed into it. I had only touched the door, and yet the dragon was roaring and snarling at me. Clearly, it knew what I was up to. And did not approve.

“Annnd not one more.” I tiptoed away. I think I was going to call this one Grump.

There was a whistle. Like the sound of a kettle going off. Twitch perked up as Breyr slunk into view, and then quickly disappeared. Twitch squawked and tromped after her.

I smiled, watching her go.

I frowned.

How was I going to get these dragons back in their cages?


	22. Chapter 22

“And then there was one.”

I slumped against the wall as a click signalled that I had successfully corralled the Nadder. Catching her and the Zippleback had been a _nightmare_ ; at this time, the sun was peeking over the horizon, and I reeked of smoke. Thankfully, I had only the smallest left.

Fishbone chittered nervously as I carried him towards his cage. He’d seen me lock the other two dragons away, but wasn’t fighting me. I think he was resigned. Drained. Either way, I could have easily put him in there and gone on my way.

I didn’t.

I sat down. Made Fishbone comfortable in my lap. Scratched him under the chin in that spot he so loved, and murmured, “You know I’m not abandoning you, right? I would never do that; but I can’t take you with me either. If you go missing, people will wonder how you got out, and . . . well, between you guys and Toothless, it’s not safe for anyone to be paying extra attention to me.”

I hugged him close to my chest like a doll. “I’m not leaving you guys. I’ll come back. I promise.”

Fishbone squirmed. His neck stretched upwards, and the tip of his snout dug into the fleshy part of my chin. I think he was being affectionate.

“Be a good dragon, now.”

I put Fishbone back in his cage, and locked the flap.

* * *

“Toothless! Toothless, look over there!”

I tapped furiously on the dragon’s side. I don’t think he felt me through the scales, or maybe he was just caught up in the leisure of the glide. Not me though. My feet were digging into the stirrups as I struggled to keep sight of my target, a target I knew Toothless would be interested in if he took the time to look.

“Toothless!” I pulled on one of his flappy-ear-things, earning an annoyed grunt. But he quickly cheered up when he saw what I was looking at, and his lips stretched in that imitation of a smile.

A wake formed in the ocean behind us as Toothless picked up speed. Closer . . . closer . . .

There! We barrelled straight through a flock of seabirds, sending them flying (both on their own terms and not) everywhere. I had a feather or two stuck in my hair, but it was worth it.

Heh. I am such an evil person (but it had been Toothless’s idea first!).

I patted his head. “Where now, bud?”

Toothless made an ambiguous noise.

“Well, you know what I was thinking?” Out of my pockets, I pulled out a fish. And a very strong slingshot. “I was thinking we should test how fast you can fly . . .”

* * *

“Guys. Hey, guys!” I rattled my goody-filled pail and rapped on Fishbone’s door. “I brought snacks.”

Fishbone was first, of course. I set him loose. The little sucker would never forgive me if I didn’t. He got a big fish – like bigger than he was. That way, he would still be chewing on it while I got around to the others. So, with him perched on my shoulder and spilling fish guts all over it, I moved to the next in line: Breyr and Breyja.

They got a fish per head. The exact same species of fish. The exact same size of fish. Otherwise, one would get jealous. Twitch got a single fish, but also some rocks. After watching her run around one day, I had noticed that she had a quirk of eating stones. I wasn’t going to ask why, but it seemed important to her.

“And how about you, Grump?”

No answer. That said, (or, uh, not said, I suppose) I knew Grump wouldn’t turn down free food. Sure enough, he waited until _after_ I had shoved the fish inside to start growling.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Fishbone. “Don’t worry. He’ll love me someday.”

* * *

Toothless appeared suddenly. Like always. One moment, nowhere to be seen. The next, right in front of me. Only the flattened vegetation under his paws spoke of how he had gotten here.

“Hello, Toothless.”

I raised my hand to touch, as per usual. Only this time, Toothless ducked away. Eyes narrowed, he sniffed my hand suspiciously.

“What?” I held my hand in front of my face and inhaled. Seemed normal to me. “Toothless, it’s me. I’m not an imposter if that’s what you’re thinking.”

My words did little to persuade him. He huffed and stuck his face in mine, staring me down. I gave him the most bored look I could.

He sniffed me. And growled. And sniffed some more. At this point, I knew better than to try to figure out what was wrong with him, and just let him go through his tantrum instead. Which consisted of him circling me while complaining loudly.

Then he pushed me. And not into the lake, this time.

On my stomach, I twisted to look at the Night Fury. “What are you doing?”

Toothless rubbed his forehead against my back. Then his cheek. Then his cheek again. He stayed there for a pause, and then leaned his weight forward, as if planning on falling on top of me.

Uh, no. Not happening. Not again.

I stood up. Toothless didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed his head on my chest instead.

“You’re crazy,” I told him. “One hundred percent crazy.”

He (accidently) pushed me over a stump.

“And now you’re homicidal.”

Toothless hopped onto the stump and chirped at me.

I chuckled. “Okay, come here you . . . NO DON’T JUMP ON ME!”

Too late.

I swear my body made a deflating sound.

As I lay there, dying, Toothless laid his head on me. About ten seconds later, he lifted it and barked.

“Haven’t you done enough?” I complained.

Toothless growled, and nudged my hand.

“Fine.” I scratched him under his chin. “Happy now?”

He purred and closed his eyes. When I tried to crawl out from under him, they snapped open. With one paw, he grabbed my shoulder, dragged me back and demanded to be scratched again.

Yeah, I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

* * *

“You’re going to _love_ this.”

A week in, and I was determined to make Grump tolerate me. So, I had my secret weapon: my newly-dibbed Dragon-Revered Utopian Grass (or DRUG for short). I had already given the other dragons their share; Fishbone was currently rolling in a pile of it.

I bravely stuck my hand into Grump’s cage. His wings buzzed furiously as he charged. I waited, waited –

There. He thumped to the ground. I could feel his hot breath on my skin.

“You like that, huh?” I waved the DRUG around. “Want it?”

Inside the cage, Grump slobbered and panted. I let the blades fall through my fingers, and quick as a flash, heard him slurp them up.

“Do you like me now?” I asked.

Grump growled.

* * *

“Yes, I know I stink. Fishbone made an absolute mess today.”

Of course, what was stinky to me was delicious to Toothless. Which was why he was following me around and licking my clothes.

“I get it,” I said. “You’re hungry. Well, you’re just going to have to live with that, because I might need those clothes in the future.”

I pulled my vest and shirt off and dropped them into the lake. At least I could try to get some of the mess out before I went home. It was when I was watching them slipping beneath the surface that I noticed Toothless was pawing my back. Kind of. He was doing the action; he just wasn’t actually making contact.

It occurred to me: Toothless had never seen me without something covering my chest. He must have been really confused.

“It’s like fur,” I told him, even though he couldn’t understand me. “But we can take it on and off.”

I gave him no more attention as he continued to investigate my lack of shirt.

Then, something wet and slimy dragged across my exposed back.

Wet, slimy and _ticklish_.

My body underwent a spasm. I jumped away from Toothless, and grinned awkwardly. “Heh heh, nice one there. Let’s not do that again.”

Toothless inched closer. His mouth opened.

“That’s okay!” I squeaked. “It’s just me being me. Weird, like always –”

I erupted into giggles as Toothless licked me again.

Not good. Toothless knew what laugher was. He knew Vikings were supposed to laugh when we were happy. But I wasn’t! Well, I was, but not for that reason. It had absolutely nothing to do with being tickled!

Tell that to Toothless though.

“Toothless,” I said, “let’s not do anything rash . . .”

He pounced.

“ _Toothless!_ ”

That was the last thing I said before I was forced to laugh again.

* * *

“Never again,” I vowed. I wished I could wring all the dragon slobber out of my skin like I could wring water out of my clothes. Granted, I had gone for a swim before I left Toothless, but I still felt like I was covered in dragon drool. Plus, the humidity in the forest wasn’t making things any better.

Under my breath, I continued to mutter curses as my feet took me down the familiar path to Berk. I –

BY THE LOVE OF ODIN, WHAT WAS THAT?

I gaped. Light gleamed off the axe embedded in the tree trunk. The axe that had been a foot away from splitting my skull. Across the clearing that I had walked into, an equally shocked Astrid gaped back at me.

She recovered first. “Hiccup?”

I shook myself out of my daze. “Oh, hey, Astrid. Lovely weather we’re having, huh?”

She marched over and yanked her axe free. “You need to be more careful.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” I could _feel_ how gawky my smile was going to be, so I struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Uh-huh.” She blew the splinters off her axe, and then frowned. “What are you doing out here?”

“Me?” I pointed at myself for emphasis. “I’m, you know, enjoying the sights.”

“The sights,” she repeated.

“Yep, and now I have to get back to Berk. Bye!”

I ran off, feeling her stare on my back.

* * *

“You’re kidding. You have to be kidding me.”

Hands on my hips, I gave Breyr and Breyja my most exasperated look. I had her cage open, I had fish waiting for her, there was just one problem apparently: Fishbone was sitting in the entrance to her cage. The Zippleback would take a step forward, clearly wanting the fish, then glance at the Terror and retreat into the cage.

“He’s a Terror!” I cried. “He’s like the size of your foot! You can’t honestly be scared of him.”

The Zippleback keened. She rocked from one foot to another.

“Do you want the fish or not?”

She keened. She took a slow step forward. Another.

“Almost there . . .” I coaxed.

She lifted her foot –

Fishbone lunged. She yelped and fled back into the cage.

I glared at Fishbone. “You are a very cruel dragon.”

He licked his paw.

* * *

“Hiccup? Hiccup, you there?”

“What . . .?” I lifted my chin and blinked my gummy eyes. There was a paper stuck to my forehead. That voice, it had been Gobber, hadn’t it? What was he doing here . . .?

I looked out the window, and gave a start when I saw it was dark.

“Must have fallen asleep,” I muttered. I tore the paper off my forehead and glanced at it –

Whoops! Can’t have Gobber seeing this.

“Oi, Hiccup?”

“I’m here!” I quickly hid my Book of Dragons, succeeding in shutting it away just as Gobber opened my door. “What’s up?”

“You missed training.”

“Oh, sorry. I fell asleep. I guess I’m catching something.” It was disarming how easily the lie rolled off my tongue.

Gobber walked up to me. He put a hand against my forehead. “You are a smidge warm. Have you been feeling okay?”

“It’s probably just a cold,” I lied. I knew perfectly well that it had nothing to do with illness, and a lot to do with staying up at night to play with dragons. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? I could whip you up a batch of my mother’s –”

“NO, it’s okay!” I shouted as kindly as I could. No offense to him, but I’d rather be ill than eat Gobber’s cooking. “But thanks for offering.”

“Alright.” He ruffled my hair. “Get better, Hiccup.”

* * *

Twitch screeched as she went after Snotlout. Astrid had already rolled out of the way, leaving him the sole person in the Nadder’s path. And me, I guess, but I don’t really count me.

Snotlout dove, and then I was the only one left. Twitch charged, spines bristling, head turning sideways so she could see her target.

I waved. “Hey.”

She stopped short, and tilted her head as she studied me. Then, she perked up, and decided to go after an in-the-process-of-standing Ruffnut instead.

Crisis adverted.

At least I thought that until I saw Astrid watching me.

* * *

“Hiccup.”

Astrid’s voice had the same effect a dragon’s roar would have had on pre-Toothless me. I went rigid, and a nervous sweat built up across my forehead.

“Hiccup.” She approached me cautiously, like one would a downed dragon. “In the Arena, what -?”

“I left my axe in the ring,” I told her, practically running as I did. “Talk to you later!”

* * *

“Alright, I’m going to do it now!”

I pushed my heels against the stirrups, and undid the straps securing me to the saddle. At the same time, Toothless stretched his wings wide. His tail went out straight behind him as he held himself as flat as possible. I grabbed the flaps on his head, just in case, and moved one foot from the stirrup to his back.

“Ah, slipping!” There was a flash of teeth when I yanked on him, but though I knew he wanted to, he didn’t roll. I rubbed his head in an apology. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

I lifted my other foot. That left me balancing precariously on one foot, on a gliding dragon’s back. Let me just say it isn’t a particularly safe feeling.

And then I was there. Standing on his back. While he was flying. Right now, I was squatting, but I didn’t need much of a push to begin straightening my legs.

“Toothless, we did it. We did it!”

He glanced over his shoulder, and barked.

“Look at me: I’m standing! Standing, and –!”

He bucked to the side, and suddenly there was nothing under me.

Before I could even scream, he rolled back, and caught me in his claws. He peeked at the startled expression on my face, laughed, and then smiled.

I scowled. “You are the worst.”

* * *

“Shh! Just be quiet, and nobody’s going to see you.”

I urged Toothless forward. While he was perfectly happy to play in the forest around Berk, he wasn’t too keen on going into Berk itself. Not that I was planning to stroll into the Great Hall, or anything. I just wanted to show him where I lived. In case he was curious. Or something.

“No, this way.” I put my shoulder against his, and _pushed_. He just stared at me, then moved out of the way and let me fall.

“It’s still that way.”

We stayed on the outside of the village, where the light from the torches and lanterns were less. With the exception of his bright green eyes, Toothless could have been a shadow himself. He moved as silently as one, surprising for his size. Or maybe Vikings were just naturally loud.

“And this one is mine.” I put my arms around the corner of my house in mockery of a hug. Toothless sniffed it, and snorted. He didn’t seem very impressed.

“I assure you, it’s quite wonderful on the inside,” I said. “See that window up there? That’s mine. Mine.”

I jabbed my thumb into my chest, then pointed at the window, and then at myself again. It wasn’t going to get much clearer than that.

Toothless cocked his head. He flew up to my window, and I was just glad I had put my shutters down earlier.

“You can’t go in my room,” I scolded. “Get back down here.”

He scratched at my window some more, then fluttered down to join me. I rubbed his head, and said goodnight.

That didn’t dissuade him from trying to follow me into the house.

“Uh, no!” I shoved him back. “You can’t come inside. Dad would freak out.”

He warbled. I leaned down pressed my hand against his snout.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said softly.


	23. Chapter 23

I cut the smoked mutton into strips, and then carefully scooped those into a sack. Although the amount of food didn’t change, I found that it felt like there was more when I did that. When I finished, I wiped the knife clean on my shirt, and then turned to see Dad there.

“Hiccup.” He took a step forward. “You’re going somewhere.”

I shrugged. “Well, there’s no training today, so I thought I’d explore the woods a little. Did you need me for something?”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I just . . . you haven’t been around much lately.”

“Oh, sorry.” I put the knife down. “I . . . I guess I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking.”

A pregnant pause. I heard his steps grow closer, and then a big hand settled on my shoulder. “Hiccup, if something’s bothering you, you can always talk to me.”

“Thanks,” I said. Even if Dad meant what he was saying, I knew he was lying. What I was doing behind his back, it wasn’t something we could talk about.

“Gobber says you’ve missed quite a few classes,” he said pointedly.

“I’ve been feeling sick lately,” I lied.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “Well, uh, feeling better?”

I shrugged again. “Well enough.”

Not much else was said. Dad hovered for a bit, and then went back to his sea charts. Once he was out of sight, I made a break for it.

I went to the cove, as usual. Toothless and I had decided to hide the saddle there, between a few leafy shrubs and under some leaves. I had just pulled it free when Toothless’s shadow fell across me.

I held the saddle up. “So, flying?”

Toothless sighed. He rolled his head in his version of an eye-roll. I followed him to the place where he curled up, and begged, “Come on, Toothless. _Please_.”

Swoosh! Toothless’s tail swung around to his head. The fin on it expanded, blocking me from getting at him.

Except just like him, I had no sense of personal space. I shoved that fin right down, and peered over his tail. “Toothless, come on. I know you like flying as much as I do.”

He did, too. I had a feeling that if we could ditch the saddle, he would be perfectly happy to spend most, if not all our time flying. However, I had yet to invent another way of securing myself to him, so he always put up resistance.

“Toothless!” I hissed. I scrambled over his tail and sat right in front of his nose. “Let’s go flying! I brought fish for you.”

His eyes opened. By now, Toothless knew exactly what that sentence meant.

“But you have to let me fly with you, alright?”

He relented, and dined happily as I tied the saddle to his body. Then I made myself comfortable, lashed myself to him, and rocked impatiently back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” I patted his side as he braced himself. “Let’s go!”

We exploded into the sky. I let him take over, as always. Toothless always knew fun places to go. Today, he seemed to be aiming for another island; I could see its silhouette in the distance.

Then, another shadow crisscrossed ours.

“Was that a Timberjack?” I would have fallen sideways off the saddle if I hadn’t been tied down. “Toothless, that was a Timberjack! I’ve never seen one before.”

I tapped him rapidly on his shoulder. “I want to get a closer look.”

Toothless casually looked in the direction I was pointing, sighed, and made a sharp turn. I was sure he could have caught up to the Timberjack in seconds if he wanted to; he just didn’t want to.

So it was that we _gradually_ closed in on the Timberjack. I was so focused on it, that I didn’t really notice that other distant figures were closing in. Not until Toothless squawked sharply. Then I saw them:

Dragons. Dragons of all shapes and sizes. They were above us, below us, _everywhere_. Nightmares, Terrors, and so many species I had only ever seen on paper. Most of them carried their day’s haul in their claws, and their haul consisted of not just the fish I was accustomed to seeing Toothless devour, but animals and livestock, too.

“Toothless?” I had never seen so many dragons in one place before, and I blame that for why my stomach started constricting.

His wings snapped open, slowing us. As I looked around again, I realized we had wandered into some sort of fog. Okay, fine. Our proximity to the ocean did make Berk pretty murky some days of the year, so I was used to that. But coupled with all these dragons, this fog was a bad omen.

Toothless whimpered. Harsh, guttural sounds came out of his throat as he turned us around, pointed us in a direction the opposite of where the others were heading. I caught a glimpse of his face, and the troubling fact that his teeth were unsheathed. And in those sounds he made, I could hear an emotion he had never expressed before:

The dread in my core grew outwards, until I was choking on it. “Toothless, why are all these dragons here?”

He ignored me. He pumped his wings, breathes coming fast and hard as if something was holding him back –

And we snapped around. Suddenly, we were with the others again, travelling the same ominous path that they were.

“Okay Toothless, get us out of here!”

I hit his head. Pulled his ears. Did my best to shake him, and even tried to tilt his wings and forcefully turn us. He completely ignored me. No noise came out of his mouth, no acknowledgement. It was like he wasn’t there.

We dove. Not just us, but all of the dragons on some silent cue. We were metres above the barely visible waves, weaving around protruding rocks and pillars, much like we had on that very first joyride. Only, this time there was no showing off; each stroke of Toothless’s wings was careful and measured, lacking life.

We went under one rock. Passed another. A huge shadow rose up in front of us; definitely a small mountain, or _something_. Bright, red lights emitted from it, like lava was running down its slope. Toothless took us through a crack with the others, and I was helpless to do anything but cling to his back. The fog faded. Glowing orange stones, like embers, lighted the way.

And we emerged into a pit of fire.

There was orange-tinted fog down below, bright orange fog. It produced more than enough light to see by, and dyed the surrounding cliffs and rocks an odd mixture of red and black. I knew, just by the heat that this had to be the Dragon Nest.

A dragon bellowed. One by one, the dragons around me dropped their kill. They fell deep into the mist and vanished from view. Toothless kept his unerring path forward, and finally landed on a ledge overlooking the pit.

“What’s going on?” I debated unlashing myself, but decided it was better not to. Just in case Toothless decided to take off. “Toothless, why are they dumping their food into that hole? Why don’t they just eat it?”

My questions roused no response. Toothless laid down, head on his paws. He didn’t stir no matter how much I poked him.

The droning of a Gronckle’s wings caught my attention. I watched it scratched itself, fluttered toward –

And just like that, it was gone.

 _Something_ had risen out of the depths. Something big, and scaly, and _big_. Forget the Nightmare, this dragon’s head was at least the size of a dozen of them stuck together. Glints marked the spots where its teeth stuck out, each one longer than me.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything but the terror in my gut. The gigantic dragon’s head began to slip under the fog blanket, but suddenly stopped. Not one, but three pairs of eyes rolled in my direction.

My metaphoric hackles rose. The dragon knew I was there.

“Okay, Toothless, we need to go!”

He didn’t move. Scratch that, he was moving: I could feel him shaking like a leaf. But he wasn’t doing anything to take us away.

“Toothless? Toothless!”

A great, clawed paw reached out of the fog. Rocks trembled and broke as the dragon drove its claws into the mountainside and began to climb. The light beneath our ledge began to fade, blotted out by the massive beast crawling out of its den.

“Toothless, _go_!” I kicked him in the gut. Beat on his head like a child. His pupils were dilated to their fullest width; his nostrils flared as he caught the approaching monster’s scent. Yet he did not move.

I looked up into three pairs of yellow eyes.

Suddenly, Toothless didn’t matter. Suddenly, that fact that he was my only way out didn’t matter. All I knew was that I needed to _get away_. I tore at the saddle’s buckles, fingers too clumsy, too shaking to gather the finesse needed to undo them. Just a few feet away, the great dragon inhaled, and my hair and clothes waved toward the mouth.

Anything. _Anything_. I tore at the straps, at the saddle, groping for some way to get free. My elbow smashed into something hard, something in my pocket – a knife? Something to cut me loose? – and I pulled it out.

What met my eyes was a wooden whistle. Fishlegs’s forgotten Dragon Repellent. It was something. Assuming it worked.

I took a deep breath and covered the mouthpiece with my lips.

The whistle’s screech tore through the air, matched only in intensity by the great dragon’s pained howl. Toothless’s body jolted violently, and even as the other dragons reacted to the sound, he tore into the air. Jaws snapped shut an inch away from him; a fleck of spittle the size of a snowball slapped me in the face.

Up, up we went, toward a hole in the tip of the cavern and the sky beyond. Other dragons joined us in flight, swirling around the hole like a whirlpool. Toothless bypassed all that and went straight for freedom. We split the fog behind us, so fast was his wake.

A low rumble, one I felt in my bones, rippled through the air. Toothless stopped suddenly. His wings started to fold back into his body, and we pointed down, down . . .

“Oh no, we don’t!” I wrenched his ear back, and sounded the whistle.

His body juddered again, but the whistle had the desired effect. Toothless angled himself so that instead of falling through the hole into the great dragon’s mouth, we instead zipped down the slope and back into the foggy maze of rocks. He took us back through the same path, only his pace was frenetic.

He didn’t slow until we were safely on land. Even then, he only slowed enough so that when we landed, neither of us broke any bones. His chin still went straight into the sand, and my legs ached from where the straps dug in and stopped me from flying forward.

He laid there, still. The adrenaline had just started to evaporate from my blood. I – finally – separated us and then rolled off him right onto the sand.

The sky was very blue today.

As my eyes traced the lazy path of a cloud, I found my voice. “Toothless, what was that thing?”

He groaned. The poor guy looked exhausted. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth; apparently, he didn’t care that the tip of it was now covered in sand. His sides heaved, contracting so tightly that I could see his ribs, before sagging outwards like all the bones had disappeared. There was even some exertion-induced foam dotting his lips.

“Are you okay?” Concerned, I brought out the mutton and presented it to him. It was supposed to be for me, but I was way too worried about him to think about that.

When he didn’t eat it, I got _really_ worried. I had never seen a dragon turn down food before.

“It didn’t hurt you, did it?” I asked, scanning over his body for injuries. “I thought it missed, but . . .”

With an audible crack, his wings snapped open, and then shut very quickly.

Around me.

I found myself in a dark, leathery prison.

“Uh, Toothless?” I knocked on what I assumed was his chest. “You can let me out.”

As he was wrought to do, he ignored me. Something hard – claws, I presume – curled into my back, not hurting, but drawing me in close. My cheek pressed against scales, and there was a deep pounding in my ears: his heartbeat. It was powerful, and very, very fast.

I understood now: even more so than me, Toothless was – had been terrified. His breathing too, even now as we laid peacefully on the beach, was laboured.

I thought back. He was terrified now, had clearly been in a panic when we had fled the Nest, and so, must have been freaked out when were actually in the place. _So why hadn’t he moved_? I guess he could have been paralyzed with fear, so to say, but that didn’t seem right; Toothless had always stricken me as one to go down fighting.

I thought back further: to an attempt to turn away from the Nest, only to snap right around. He had tried to run, hadn’t he? Same when we had actually fled; he had been so very close to diving right back into that Nest, even when it would be our doom. Like the urge to dive had been utterly irresistible. Like he hadn’t been in control.

But that was it, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been, had he? Like those other dragons, the ones surrendering their catches to the great dragon in the pit –

It all came together. A dragon that size, how much food would it need just to survive? Surely, more than one dragon alone could gather. But a dozen dragons? A hundred dragons? Maybe. Maybe then.

“That’s it,” I said aloud, needing to hear the theory spoken aloud. “That’s why you’re attacking Berk. It isn’t about feeding yourselves, it’s about feeding that dragon. And that dragon, it’s like a queen bee. You’re the workers, and she’s the queen. She’s controlling you.”

I shifted, and felt the whistle brush against my side. She controlled the dragons, had controlled Toothless, but the whistle had broken the spell. Maybe its horrible noise had been enough to knock Toothless out of his trance, or maybe the noise had disturbed the queen enough that her spell had broken. Either way, I was giving Fishlegs a big hug when I got home.

I waited there, fast in Toothless’s grip until he finally calmed down. His heartbeat returned to a steady pace; his breathing grew quiet. A few times, he adjusted his grip on me, and it always ended up growing tighter. By the end of it, I was covered in sweat thanks to our combined heat.

I pushed on his wings. “Toothless . . .”

They opened slowly. I stepped out into the cool air, and basked in it.

I turned. “Are you okay?”

I had never seen him look so lost before.

Without warning, he leaned forward and touched our foreheads together.

* * *

 

We left for Berk a little while after, after Toothless had fished and I had eaten the mutton I brought along. However, it appeared I hadn’t ate enough for Toothless’s taste, because he kept trying to regurgitate fish in my lap. Eventually, I managed to appease him – by taking the fish and burying it in the sand when he wasn’t looking.

We sailed back to Berk. There was little excitement now; both of us were too drained from today’s events for that. He brought me to the cove, and watched dully as I unhooked the saddle.

“Hey, cheer up.” I scratched under his chin, just as he liked it. “Next time, we’ll stay far, far away from that place.”

He rumbled. Then warbled in confusion as I began to walk home.

A black blur suddenly barred my path. Toothless stood in front of me, wings expanded to block me from moving past them.

So I ducked under them instead. Not without asking Toothless what he was doing, of course.

He blocked me again. This time, with his body so I couldn’t go underneath. So I just went over instead. Not without giving him a dirty look. He made a stunned sound, then spun around and bit my vest.

“Toothless!”

He pulled. I was forced back a few steps before I wriggled out of the vest. Once he noticed I had, he tossed the thing aside and went for my shirt.

“Toothless!” I groaned as he moved in front of me again. “I have to get back. We’ve been gone for _hours_ now.”

He shook his head (I didn’t even know he knew what that meant!). Bumped me with his snout. Did his best to herd me back into the cove. I resisted all his efforts, and finally got past him.

“What’s with you?” I asked.

And I saw it: fear. The same fear I had once seen in Fishbone’s eyes; the fear that I would abandon him to his fate.

I understood: up until I had come along with my whistle, there had been no defence against the queen. Now, if I wasn’t around, there was stillno defence against the queen. Toothless was _begging_ me for help. What he was seeing now wasn’t my attempt to return home, but a rejection of that plead.

“I’m not abandoning you,” I said fiercely. I knelt down. Put a hand on either side of his face and held his gaze. “I’m going to help you, I _swear_. I . . . we’ll figure out something. I promise.”

I touched our foreheads together again. Toothless exhaled deeply and nuzzled my neck.

“There’s got to be some way to take her down . . .”

* * *

Feet dragging, I walked into Berk. The weight of what I had promised Toothless was heavy on my shoulders. Taking down a dragon of that size? I could barely handle a Terror on the best of days. I had no idea what I was going to do.

The stench of smoke drafted into my nose. I looked up, noticing for the first time the fires raging all over the village. There was debris everywhere, and no lack of blood.

A raid. There had been a dragon raid.

Before I could even think of what I was going to do, a loud voice boomed, “Hiccup, _where were you_?”


	24. Chapter 24

“Dad,” I whispered.

The setting sun’s light bounced off his helmet, making it shine orange in a way eerily similar to the fog in the Dragon Nest. In his hand, he held a gleaming axe – freshly polished. Or freshly cleaned. Around Berk, Dad’s nickname had always been Stoick the Vast; I’d assumed it was because of his . . . girth. Now, I knew differently. Because in that moment I saw him, he seemed so much larger than life; a giant among insects.

And in that moment, I was _terrified_.

“Where were you?” Dad repeated.

“I . . .” My mouth flapped uselessly as I gestured behind me. “In the woods. I didn’t know . . .”

“In the woods?” he repeated furiously. “Doing _what_?”

I swallowed, and said what may have been the dumbest thing possible. “Training?”

“Training? Training!” His voice rose on that last word, making heads snap around to watch us. “You’ve been skipping your classes, _refuse_ to do anything in those you attend, and you’re trying to tell me you were _training_?”

“When you put it that way, it does sound suspicious,” I admitted. “But I . . . oh!”

My eyes widened as I finally understood what he was implying.

“Dad, I didn’t run away!” I cried. “I didn’t know there was a raid. It’s not like the dragons give us a schedule detailing all their plans for the month.”

“Hiccup, that battle was one of the longest we’ve ever had,” Dad barked. “And you weren’t there for _any_ of it!”

“I _didn’t know_!” I shouted. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I wasn’t close enough to hear anything.”

“Then where were you?” he demanded. He took a massive step forward. We were close enough to touch.

“In the woods.”

“That’s not . . .” He tugged at his beard for a brief second. “Where are you going in the woods?”

I shrugged. “Nowhere really. Just exploring.”

“Hiccup, you disappear for _hours_ at a time. That doesn’t happen unless you are doing something.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” I blinked, taken aback by the bitterness in my tone.

His eyes narrowed. “Hiccup, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Nothing!” I said. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Hiccup, what are you doing in there?” he asked, tone neutral.

“ . . . Nothing?”

“Hiccup . . .”

“Dad, I told you. It’s nothing.”

“Hiccup!” He swept forward and grabbed my shoulder, preventing me from turning away. “What sort of trouble are you in this time?”

“Why do you always assume I’m in trouble?”

“ _Because you always are_!” The sudden shout caught me by surprise. “If you’re not getting chased by dragons, then you’re burning down houses with your . . . contraptions or falling off the docks into the sea.”

“That was one time –”

“One time that nearly killed you. _Again_.”

I scowled. Something red-hot was bubbling up inside me; I wondered if Toothless felt this way before he spat fire. “Yes, I know. Can we move on from that?”

His voice became lower. Darker. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”

I shoved his arm away. Stumbled back. “Dad, I told you I was sorry. I don’t understand what you want from me!”

“I want you to grow up and stop treating everything as a game,” he said.

Grow up? I’ll admit that wasn’t something I had expected to hear. Suddenly, I found that my planned snarky comebacks were lost in the dust. And that was staring with my mouth open in a very undignified manner. I mean, sure, I was still a teenager, but I wasn’t that immature, was I? I must have been more mature than Snotlout, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, for instance.

. . . But that was the key, wasn’t it? Sure, those three were a pack of loud, obnoxious animals, but they had something important that I didn’t.

“No, you don’t. You just want me to become you,” I said. I wasn’t angry when I said it, or sad, just accepting. It was something I had known for a long time.

“Not me. A Viking.”

I waved that off. “Same thing.”

He was visibly irritated by my flippant attitude. “What’s gotten into you, Hiccup?”

“I don’t know.” I looked away. My face was burning. “Maybe I . . . I don’t know. I . . .”

“You what?”

Quietly, I said, “Maybe I decided to stop pretending I could be you.”

Dad blinked. He straightened up. I could tell that this little talk had veered in a completely different direction from what he had envisioned. “What does that mean?”

Something in me snapped.

“ _Look at me_!” I screamed. “I’m not you! I’m me. I’m sorry that I’m a _hiccup_ in your wonderful line of perfect Vikings, but I’m not sorry about being me. I’ve seen things, I’ve done things that you can’t even imagine, Dad. I’ve made things that would amaze you if you looked beyond the fact that I’m not acting like a Viking. So, I’m sorry that I can’t wield a broadsword and that I won’t fight dragons, but I don’t _want_ to be like the rest of you anymore. ”

I nearly sobbed, “Why can’t you open your eyes and see that?”

A long pause. I could hear whispers all around us. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could _hear_ them. Everyone had seen. Everyone had heard. And although all of them knew I was a screw-up, this was the first time it had ever been spoken aloud in front of everyone like this.

And it had been said by _me_.

“I can’t do this.” I pulled at my hair.

“Hiccup . . .”

“No.” I backed away, shaking my head wildly. “I can’t be here right now.”

I ran.

* * *

It came as no surprise that my feet carried me to the cove. It was Toothless’s and my special place; our safe haven. I glanced at the shrubbery concealing the saddle, and then vented my frustrations by tossing rocks into the lake.

 _Plunk_. They didn’t skip across the water like I had hoped they would. Just another failure in the life of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock. Boy, Dad must regret making me his heir now.

Another rock met its watery demise. I tried to go for a third, but the rock was a little too heavy, and I ended up wrenching my shoulder. Because of course I did. So, I let the rock fall to the ground and glared at it for good measure.

“That was . . . that was an interesting conversation you had with your dad.”

I froze as Astrid’s voice crawled over me. She was seated on a boulder right behind me, and her axe made a _very_ sharp sound as it dragged against the stone.

“Astrid,” I said in confusion, and worry.

“You must have been holding that in for a long time,” she said.

“I guess you could say that.” I turned my back to her, not wanting her to see my expression.

She slipped off the rock. Got up right behind me, before she hissed, “Is that why you sold us out?”

I spun around. “ _What_?”

“I’ve seen you with the dragons,” she snarled. Her finger went right into my chest, as if she wanted to spear my heart. “You don’t fight them. They don’t hurt you. In the last raid, you had a Night Fury _protect_ you. You said it yourself: you don’t want to be a Viking. So I don’t know how, but I know you’ve made a deal with the dragons. Admit it!”

“Astrid, you have this _way_ wrong.” I said. I put my hand on her wrist, just to try to push her away from me, but she didn’t like that. Next thing I knew, she had my wrist in some kind of lock, and it _hurt_.

The pommel of her axe slammed into my stomach.

“That’s for the lies,” she growled.

I laid there. Not quite dying, but on the brink.

A black blur shot across the treetops.

This was _bad_.

My stomach jumped as I rolled to a sitting position. “Astrid, we need to go.”

“Why? Are you late for your meeting with the dragons?”

“Astrid!” I kept my eyes trained skyward, where Toothless zoomed past us again.

“What?” she shouted. “What is it?”

And she grabbed my shirt.

I didn’t have to look to know what Toothless was doing.

“ _Get down_!” I tackled her right around the waist, slamming us both into the dirt. She laid there, stunned, and then got _mad_.

“What is wrong with you?!” Before I could say anything, she was on top of me, holding me down by the neck, her axe discarded to the side.

“A-Astrid,” I choked out.

She clenched her teeth. Began to speak.

And froze when she heard the unmistakable shriek of a Night Fury.

“Astrid, _no!”_ I screamed as she did the worst possible thing and went for her axe. Which brought her further away from me. Which brought her away from the only safe place there was. She snatched her axe up, body trembling as she tried to pick out Toothless with her eyes. She couldn’t see him; neither could I. But I could hear him coming.

And suddenly a ferocious, black mass tore apart the branches above us, purple fire glowing deep within his maw –

“ASTRID!” I lunged just as Toothless took his shot.

Time slowed.

My shoulder smashed into Astrid.

A bright light -

And I _screamed_.

I could barely recognize my own voice. The scream tore my throat apart, rubbing it raw with nothing but its sheer intensity. It wasn’t just my voice out of control, but my entire body; spasms racked it, so violent and many I might have actually shattered my bones.

“ _Put it out! PUT IT OUT!_ ”

“I _did_!” Astrid shrieked. She frantically slapped my leg, trying to suffocate any lingering flames, but all I felt was _a rock being bashed against my shin_.

I screamed; screamed until I choked on my own tears. Astrid was crying too; angry, horrified tears were running down her face. She couldn’t touch my leg without it feeling like someone had stuck it in a fire, and Odin, _it hurt_.

_Screek!­_

Astrid screamed, holding her axe protectively in front of her. Branches and leaves rained down on us as an invisible Toothless leapt from tree to tree. His howls rang through the air, like an entire flock of Night Furies was present.

“Astrid, go!” I said.

She glanced down at me, shocked. “I’m not leaving you here with that thing!”

“Astrid, listen to me!” I cried. “ _Go_!”

“Not without you!” She grabbed me under my armpits, pulled –

I screamed. “Stop! STOP!”

She let go of me quickly.

“I can’t . . .” My teeth gritted together. “It hurts . . .”

“Here, give me your vest!” Her shaking hands untangled me from my vest and tried to wrap it around my leg, pausing only when Toothless gave a particularly angry roar.

We soon found the reason for the roar when other villagers rushed into the cove. My world suddenly filled with big, hairy Vikings and, by Odin’s beard, _it hurt_.

“Night Fury!” I heard Astrid say. “It was a Night Fury!”

Voices droned. Someone grabbed me, lifted me, grazed my leg –

White spots danced in my vision as a particularly sick-feeling shudder went through my body. I could feel my muscles slacken –

I gave into the darkness.

* * *

I woke sometime later in my bed, hot, covered in sweat. The room stunk. There was no specific smell I could name; just a bunch crammed together to make one musty stench.

I felt it the second I woke: _pain_. Like someone had decided to skin me alive for fun. Pins and needles were running up and down my injured leg, which was propped up on a pillow and wrapped in bandages. Bandages that were red in some places. I didn’t dare move. It hurt enough already; I didn’t need to add more pain on top of it. Instead, I helplessly shouted for Dad.

He arrived quickly, Gobber and one of the village healers, Grenda, on his heels. I don’t think I had ever seen Dad’s face so raw before. Gobber, too, even though he was naturally more expressive, was wearing a face I didn’t recognize.

“Hiccup.” Dad reached out, as if to touch.

“How are you feeling?” Grenda cut in.

Through gritted teeth, I said, “In pain.”

“That is to be expected,” Grenda said. “But you still have feeling in your leg? Can you still move it?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I really don’t want to try, though.”

“Don’t do it if you’re not comfortable,” Dad said quickly.

“Okay.” I let my head fall back on the pillow. Tried to drown myself in the softness.

“Can’t you do something about the pain?” I whimpered.

They said nothing for a few seconds. “Injuries from a Night Fury are extraordinary rare,” Grenda finally said.

I knew what she was saying. They didn’t know how to treat me. Sure, they could wrap up my leg and call it a day, but beyond that, they were clueless. Unfortunately for us, not all dragon burns could be treated the same way; and for a dragon as exotic and powerful as the Night Fury, I was willing to bet that conventional treatments wouldn’t work.

“There might be something in the old journals,” Gobber said. “There’s got to be somebody who’s survived a Night Fury’s blast before.”

“Perhaps.”

Gobber and Grenda left to look through the books. That left me, and Dad standing by my bedside. He looked uncomfortably at the door, then moved to the foot of the bed and stared at me.

“Do you think there’s anything in those journals?” I asked.

“There might be. It’s hard to say.”

“It would go faster if you looked too, right?”

“Hiccup, look at you,” Dad said. “I can’t leave you alone –”

“Dad, if there’s _any_ chance that there’s something in those journals that could help me, I will get up and _make_ you go and read them.” I waved at my leg. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Seriously, I would like nothing more than for you to get the entire village in on this.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.

I pasted a comforting smile on my face as he left, held it until I heard the front door slam, and then let out the longest, loudest moan of my life. When I said my leg hurt, _I wasn’t kidding_.

Rain pinged against the outside. Each second was measured by a throbbing pain; every twitch of my body vibrated through my leg and to the nerves. Sometimes, the pain would increase in fervour, so bad that black would squeeze around the fringes of my sight. I think it would have been better if I had something to do, but as I had told Dad, I wasn’t going anywhere.

_Scrh. Scrh._

I frowned at the scratching. We didn’t have mice, did we? There weren’t too many of them in Berk, thanks to the constant dragon attacks and bitter cold. That said, even if they were here, I don’t think they would be scratching at the window.

 _Scrh_.

The scratching became louder, more insistent. It became loud enough that I knew it wasn’t a rodent. I stiffened, agonizingly aware of how helpless I was.

_Scr – CRACK!_

Something burst through the wooden shutters, something dark and hooked. It retreated, and then broke through another spot, copied by two brothers. The scratching grew more intense, violent.

And finally, an entire paw came through.

Toothless continued to wrestle with the shutter, clawing and biting, until he forced his bulk through. He collapsed embarrassingly onto the floor, head hitting the ground and wings spreading and knocking over my nightstand. He pulled himself up with a huff, and then placed his paws on my bedside so he could stare at me.

“Whatever you want, I’m not in the mood,” I said quietly. Defeated. Though this was his fault, I couldn’t find it in me to be mad at him.

He sniffed my face. Moved down further toward my leg. Fine. Whatever. As long as he just sniffed.

He growled at the bandages, not understanding what they were for. Teeth unsheathed. To my horror, he raised a hooked claw –

“ _No_!” I sat up quickly and deflected it, then hissed as pain ran up my shin. “Don’t touch it.”

He looked at me. Looked back at my leg. Looked at me again, and then reached for the bottom of the bandages anyway.

I hit him _hard_. He _snapped_ at me. Then tried to rip off the bandages with his teeth. The second his scales made contact with my bandage-covered flesh, I wanted to puke. With one massive burst of strength, I shoved his head away, and then undid the wrappings myself. If I couldn’t convince him to leave it alone, then at the very least I could remove it in the way that was least painful.

My leg became visible for the first time, and I had to shut my eyes. My leg was red and black. It stunk, too. Carried a sick smell of burning pork and copper.

Toothless sniffed. He didn’t seem to like the smell either. He laid down next to me, like a really, really big cat, with his tail by my head and his head at my feet. He put a paw on my waist and pressed down, then leaned over –

“TOOTHLESS! _ARGH! STOP!”_

It felt like his tongue was covered in hooks as he dragged it up my wounded leg. My cry only made his eyes harden in steely determination, and he licked my leg again, and _again_. Each time made me scream louder, until he slapped his tailfin over my mouth, muffling me.

Tears leaked from my eyes as I tore at his tail. It was he had flamed me _again_.

For the first time in my life, I hated him.

Just as it had begun, it ended without warning. My leg was raw and felt like it was sizzling. Toothless nuzzled my chin. I shut my eyes and prayed that he would leave.

A minute passed. Gradually, my breathing slowed. My hand found Toothless’s head and stayed there, unsure of what to do.

He stirred, leaned some more weight into my stomach. I kicked my feet out on instinct, and flinched as I waited for the familiar pain to rise.

I frowned. Don’t get me wrong: it had hurt, but not as much as I was expecting it to.

I wiggled my leg, and then hissed in pain. The back of it, the side against the bed, was still excruciating; but the front, while raw, was bearable. It felt like a bad sunburn instead of the burned flesh it really was.

“Toothless . . .”

Toothless nudged my side. Using his snout, he flipped me over, so that the formerly hidden part of my leg was now exposed to him. He stomped his paw on the small of my back, and hot air brushed against my sensitive skin.

This time, I was ready. As his tongue scraped against my flesh, I buried my face deep into my pillow and _screamed_. But while I did that, I didn’t push him away. I didn’t try to stop him.

It made sense, now that I thought about it, for dragons to have some sort of anti-burn and anti-pain agent in their saliva. They must have flamed each other all the time, or maybe even themselves by accident. And I saw no reason why it wouldn’t work on me if it did on them.

At least, I told myself that was the reason I was putting myself through this.

By the time he was done, I could move again. Well, not really, but at least I wasn’t biting my lip every time I so much as twitched. My leg looked a lot healthier too; sure, it was bleeding everywhere again, but Toothless’s attention had removed much of the dead and blackened skin. Plus, I had bandages to handle the blood.

I rewrapped my leg. Collapsed into my bed, drained. Toothless laid his head on my chest.

“It still hurts,” I complained. “You’re not off the hook yet.”

He warbled. Then, he was gone, having dove through my window to the outside world.

I laid back, and began the long process of healing.


	25. Chapter 25

I stared at the book Dad had placed at my bedside. “What’s this?”

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “turns out bread-making isn’t as easy as it looks. Apparently, the dough can be very fussy, and there are a lot of tricks to it.”

“And you’ve decided to educate me in this because . . .?” I picked up the book and shook it at him.

“Well, I’ve talked to Gobber and the Elder about what you said, and we’ve . . . well, we . . . we think that you aren’t exactly, well . . .”

I raised my eyebrow. “Okay?”

Dad exhaled deeply. “The Elder thinks that all of these happenings are a message from the gods.”

“A message for me?” Well, this could only be good. Especially considering my outburst before Astrid and I had ran into Toothless.

“We’ve decided that . . .” He took a moment, evidently to steel himself. “We’ve decided that it is best that you stop dragon training.”

“. . . So, I’m out?”

He nodded wordlessly.

I stared at him. By far, the hardest part of dealing with that sentence was fighting the urge to cheer.

“Well, that’s tragic,” I said with just the right amount of sorrow. “So, I’m to take up the mantle of bread-maker extraordinaire?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Dad said quickly. “I mean, you can if you want. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Honestly, I’d rather not.” I gave him a toothy smile. “I’ve always liked working at the smith.”

“There can never be too many blacksmiths.” Wood groaned as he sat down in the chair next to my bed. “Gobber says you’re quite handy with the forge.”

“Too bad I can’t use that to distract dragons, eh?” I jabbed him in the waist with my elbow.

I meant it as a joke, but a shadow of sorrow passed over Dad’s face. My smile faded. I had forgotten: while I may have accomplished my dream of _not_ fighting dragons, it had come at the cost of Dad’s dreams for me.

“Dad, what I said that day . . .”

“Don’t worry, Hiccup,” he said gruffly. “I heard you. You were very loud.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I was going to say. I was frustrated, Dad. I mean, I won’t deny that I was thinking that stuff, but I didn’t want to say it like that.”

A beat passed. “I never meant to hurt you, Hiccup. I just . . . I want you to be safe.”

“I know.”

Another silence. This one, though, was more comfortable than the last.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asked. His one hand strayed closer to my leg, as if he longed to tear the bandages off and see for himself.

“I’ve been better,” I said. “I don’t feel like throwing myself into a pit of lava anymore, so I think that’s progress.”

A pause. Then he actually chuckled and said, “I’m glad you’re in good spirits about this.”

I shrugged lazily. Oh, if only he knew. I was still in a significant amount of pain. It was just that . . . well, I had kind of grown used to it. “Well, these things can’t be helped. The gods’ will and all.”

His face became dark. “Let’s hope you have their favour now. Especially since that devil had a go at you.”

I said nothing and stared at the ceiling. We had talked about the _Incident_ a couple of times, and each time, I had unintentionally dug a deeper hole for Toothless. Which was just what I needed.

Sadness passed over Dad’s face. “I have a meeting . . .”

I waved him off. “Say no more.”

He stood up. Swallowed. “See you later, Hiccup.”

* * *

Visitors continued to come and go over the days. Dad was the most common, for obvious reasons. After him, I would say that Gobber and Fishlegs were next. Gobber would ramble on about dragon training, and tell me tales of near-accidents in the forge (apparently, even without me, there were a lot of those). Fishlegs was more sensitive to what he perceived as my feelings, and thus, avoided talking about dragons completely. Instead, we spoke about neutral topics, like the design of the new ship the village was building, and the astonishingly fast pace at which my leg was healing (truly, this was a sign from the gods). I say astonishing because most people take months to heal. And those people weren’t even blasted by a Night Fury! I, on the other hand, had my skin back after three weeks.

Of course, I had my secret weapon. Unbeknownst to Dad, Toothless dropped by whenever he could to figuratively and literally lick my wounds. Each night, it hurt a little less. My skin was still ugly and red, but it was healing and hadn’t become infected.

But seriously, it was ugly. Most of the blisters had gone down and were small just like me, but the skin was an entirely different colour. I wish I could say it was just paler or something boring like that, but it was dark and reddish. Reddish with maybe just a touch of lovely burgundy. And it looked rough instead of smooth. But let’s stop talking about that before I puke.

Along with my expected visitors, I also got an unexpected one: Astrid. The first visit, she just followed the script: said it was good to see me alive, that it was a shame I wouldn’t be able to fight dragons alongside her, and that she hoped I would get well soon. The second visit, she thanked me for getting between her and Toothless and skirted along the edge of talking about that day, but never actually did.

The third visit? Well, that’s where things changed.

It had mostly been a silent visit. Astrid stared out the window, pacing a little, and I wrung my hands together and stared at my fingers. So, yes, an awkward one. I mean, it’s not like Astrid and I had a lot to talk about to begin with; remove dragon training from that equation, and we were drawing a complete blank.

“Hiccup . . .” She picked at the windowsill (after Toothless had broken through the shutters, I had asked Dad to remove them, claiming that it was damage from the last dragon raid). “That day where we were attacked by the Night Fury, I said some things I regret.”

“You did? Honestly, I don’t remember much other than you know, this.” I gestured at my leg.

“I did.” She turned her head. Her expression, it was tense, like it physically hurt her to talk. “I made some . . . _claims_ that were a little weird.”

“Well, now that I think about it, I do recall you saying something about me being the new Emperor of Dragons.”

“I did not!” she snapped. She directed her gaze to the ground, and mumbled, “Not like that.”

“Sarcasm aside,” I rolled to the side, so that my elbow propped up my body, “what about it? You know I’m not holding any of that against you, right?” _Especially since you’re closer to the truth than you think._

“I just wanted to say sorry.” She smiled suddenly and whacked her forehead. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. They’re _dragons_. I guess my brain was just trying to make things make sense, and that was the best it could come up with.”

Her laughter hit me like a slap in the face. I’m not sure why it bothered me so much. I had no problems lying to Dad about this, but it somehow felt worse when it was Astrid. Maybe it was just because it was Astrid, or maybe it was because she was the only one who had figured things out.

“Astrid . . .”

She cut over me. “It’s ridiculous. They’re _dragons_. You can’t make deals with them. It would be like trying to recruit a cow.”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah, you can’t make deals with them, but . . .”

She shook her head. “Ridiculous.”

Then: “Did you say something, Hiccup?”

I opened my mouth.

I closed it again.

“Nothing,” I said.

* * *

“Okay, easy . . . whoa!”

In what may have been my luckiest break of the week, I was right by a wall when I fell. Meaning, that I only rocked sideways a few inches before I was steady again. With a grunt, I repositioned my cane, and then forced my cast to take a step forward.

‘Peg-leg’ might have been the better word. I had designed it myself: a stiff metal casing that transferred the force that my lower leg would normally support to my unburned upper leg. It made me hobble around like an idiot, but with a cane, I found that I had some degree of control.

It was like that when Dad and Gobber found me: with some degree of control. By which I meant I was standing, but my arms were turning in circles as I tried to stay that way.

“Easy there, Hiccup!” Gobber swept in and steadied me. “Don’t want any broken bones to go along with that burn.”

“Sorry.” I pushed off him and found my footing. “So, both of you are here. That doesn’t bode well.”

Dad found his voice then, but didn’t get out more than a syllable before Gobber interrupted. “Of course he wants to go, Stoick. Hiccup wants to cheer his classmates on, doesn’t he?”

“Uh, sure.” I pumped my fist sideways, slightly confused. “Cheer them on about what?”

Gobber grinned. “The Choosing!”

“Th-the . . . th-the Choosing.” It felt like there was something large and sticky in my mouth.

“Yep! Astrid and Snotlout will be duking it out in a few minutes.” He leaned close and whispered behind his hand, “Personally, my money’s on Astrid.”

“Gobber,” Dad groaned, “he doesn’t want to hear that-”

“It’s okay, Dad,” I said. “I’m not jealous. Really. I’m fine.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Well, did you . . . did you want to watch?”

“Uh . . .”

“Of course he does!” Gobber exclaimed. He put his arm around my shoulder and tugged me close. “Every Viking wants to watch the Choosing. Plus, I bet he’ll want to congratulate Astrid on her victory.”

My face went bright red. It was bad enough Gobber was teasing me about that, but _in front of Dad?_

“Very well,” Dad said. “Do you want us to carry you?”

“No,” I said. “I am perfectly –”

I took one step and promptly fell on my face.

After I finished moaning in pain, I sighed. “Fine. Carry me.”

* * *

She won, as expected, and as she stood there, surrounded by cheers, I didn’t know how to react. I knew I should be happy for her, but I couldn’t be, not when I knew what we were doing was so wrong.

So, instead of watching her bask in her victory, I watched as Grump was dragged back into his cage. I don’t know if he saw me in the crowd; I don’t know what he would have thought if he had. Thanks to Toothless, I hadn’t seen any of these dragons in _weeks_. For all I knew, they had forgotten me.

Astrid marched out of the Arena, head high. True to form, Gobber carried me down to greet her. Her face twisted a bit when she saw me – from guilt, I presume. However, her smile was real when I muttered a weak congratulation.

I watched as her shrinking back was mobbed by delighted Vikings. Just coming out of the Arena now was Snotlout, loudly complaining how he would “totally win next time”.

I looked around, at all the cheering, bloodthirsty Vikings celebrating the birth of one of their own. They had no idea that they were making things worse. They thought that by building their ranks, they could stave off the dragons, that once they found the Nest that would be the end-all. But I had seen their queen, and I knew that nothing we had could bring her down.

Berk was running itself into the ground, and I was the only one who even had a clue.

What was I going to do?

* * *

Two hours later, I had enough control to get myself to Astrid’s house. Getting rid of Dad had been a pain, but a Viking chief had his duties, and he and most of the adults were scheduled for a meeting about the still-hidden Nest tonight. He sent Gobber to babysit me, but once we got to Astrid’s house, it was pretty easy to persuade him to leave us ‘alone’.

I knocked.

The door opened. Astrid blinked. Her mouth thinned into a straight line. “Hiccup?”

“Can we talk?” I blurted out. “Privately?”

“ . . . Why?” In one smooth move, she stepped outside and shut the door behind her.

“It’s important,” I said, deliberately leaving things vague.

“Oh, really?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, what is it?”

“Not here,” I said. “In the Arena. Please.”

She opened her mouth as if to scold me, but didn’t. Though her gaze was suspicious, she helped me hobble down to the Arena. We passed a few villagers along the way, all of whom dutifully cheered and pumped their fists at Astrid. A few of their stares lingered on me and my peg-leg, too. I had no idea if they were impressed, or just weirded out.

“Okay, here we are.” She nearly threw off my arm, but remembered just in time that I was crippled.

“Inside,” I said, ‘’only . . . can you wait five minutes to come in?”

“Hiccup . . .!”

“Please. Astrid, Please.” I held my hands up, hoping to placate her. “It’s important.”

“Fine.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Five minutes, and only that.”

I hobbled inside, did what I had to do, and then waited the extra thirty seconds for Astrid to enter. When she did, I could almost see the figurative storm clouds following her, and reflexively sent a quick prayer to the gods.

“Okay, that was five minutes. Start talking.”

I shuffled my feet as I waited for her to cross the Arena. Then, digging my fingernails into Fishbone’s door out of nervousness, said, “That conversation we had a little while ago, the one about the dragons . . .”

“I already said I was sorry . . . hold on.” She slunk closer. “Did that have something to do with you being barred from dragon training?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. But regardless, this conversation has nothing to do with that. It’s just about me and you. And, uh, dragons.”

“Dragons?” Her pitch rose in disbelief.

“Astrid, those accusations you made . . .” I swallowed hard. Here went nothing. “They weren’t entirely wrong.”

She stepped back, out of instinct it seemed, but I stopped her with my voice. Just as she had moved away automatically, I had moved toward her. I had one hand out, fingers splayed, like I was dealing with a skittish dragon.

“Astrid, hear me out. I didn’t sell us out, okay? You’re right: they’re just dragons.”

“Then what are you saying?” she spat. She was backing away from me, but her body language clearly stated that she wasn’t afraid to attack if I made a wrong move.

“I’m still on our side. I’m still one of you. There just happens to be something going on between me and the dragons.”

“Which is?” Despite it all, she sounded curious.

“Well, we’re friends.”

Before she could even decide how to react, I bashed my fist against my vest. Against the place where Fishbone was curled up. The little Terror instantly unfurled and crawled up my neck, hissing his displeasure.

“Dragon!” she shouted, pointing at him. She reached instantly for her not-present axe.

“Yes, I know.”

“Hiccup, stay still. I’ll, get it off you!” It was amazing, and actually very comforting, how quickly she could switch from hating me to trying to protect me.

“Astrid, it’s fine.” To illustrate my point, I plucked Fishbone off myself. He squawked and wound around my fist, until he found a comfortable spot on my forearm.

“Hiccup,” Astrid hissed, “that’s a dragon!”

“I know,” I said, watching the little Terror crawl up my arm. “He’s pretty friendly once you get to know him, although he – oww! – he _bites_. Fishbone, knock it off. We want her to like us.”

“Wait!” She shook her head, as if trying to wake up from a dream. “You and him?”

“Yes?”

“Him and you?”

“Yes?”

“You’re _friends_.”

“Yes!” My smile dropped once I saw the look on her face. “Uh, I mean . . .”

She backpedalled towards the exit. “You are so busted.”

“Astrid, please!” I lurched forward, nearly toppling over, and the pity that roused was enough to make her hesitate. “You have to give me a chance to explain.”

“Explain what?” she roared. “That you were skipping dragon training so you could hang out with him?”

“Astrid –”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!”

“Then I won’t speak. Just let me show you.” I held my hand out to her. “Astrid, please.”

The silence was thick with tension. Astrid hadn’t moved from her battle stance. Her right hand was curled, as if grasping the handle of her trusty axe.

It was hot in the Arena, or maybe it was just me. Either way, sweat built up along my forehead, and one bead rolled down my temple to my chin. I took a moment to wipe myself dry, and that was enough to break the spell.

She growled. Muttered under her breath. But she stayed. And that was enough.

I said, “Just give me a chance. Please.”

She said nothing for a second. Once she saw my hand on the lock to Twitch’s cage however, she demanded, “What are -?”

 _Click_.

Twitch emerged with a screech, spines flared. Astrid screamed too, and the two sounds merged into one pure note.

“Whoa!” Astrid rolled, narrowly avoiding Twitch’s charge. “Hiccup, are you crazy?”

“Astrid, it’s okay,” I told her. “She won’t hurt you -!”

But that was easier said than done. The dragons may have liked me, but I had forgotten: they remembered Astrid. And not in a good way.

Twitch’s tail snapped straight as she prepared to shoot. I saw it, Fishbone saw it, Astrid saw it. She reeled back, and ran towards the cages – and me – as spikes impaled the wall right behind her.

“Twitch, stop it!”

Astrid rolled, grabbed the only possible weapon in sight – a bucket – and braced herself. Twitch charged –

And I _finally_ got between them.

“That’s _enough_!” I shouted.

Twitch stopped short, wings stretched out to their full length. She cocked her head to one side, trying to peer past me and at her target, but I kept repositioning myself, making sure she never got a clear view. She stepped forward a couple of times, always screeching, but I held my ground, even used my cane to push her snout aside.

“No!” I barked at Twitch as she tried to get at Astrid again. “No, it’s okay. She’s a friend.”

Twitch glared over my head at Astrid, but the spines on her head started to lay flat. She leaned down to my level instead, and sniffed the outstretched hand I had been using to hold her back.

I momentarily forgot about Astrid. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t seen you guys for a while. Fishbone made that clear earlier. Hey, that tickles!”

I giggled in nervous excitement as she pressed her snout against my palm. Unlike Toothless and Fishbone’s smooth scales, hers were rather coarse. Enough so that they prickled when they rubbed against my skin.

“You . . .”

I looked back at Astrid. She had dropped the bucket, and was staring at me and Twitch with an emotion I didn’t recognize.

“I said I would show you,” I reminded her softly. “Here, come closer.”

“Closer?” She gave the Nadder a wary look.

“She won’t bite.” I rocked back on my heels as Twitch pressed close to me, demanding to be scratched.

Astrid hesitated for a while, until either boredom forced her hand, or even she had to admit to herself that Twitch no longer appeared dangerous. She walked closer (I grabbed Fishbone’s jaw and shut it before he could attack). Twitch glared at her, but I distracted the Nadder with a vigorous rubbing.

“In my left pocket,” I told her, “there’s some meat. Take it, but make sure Fish – the Terror doesn’t snatch it from you.”

Sure enough, the second the delicious smell of smoked boar wafted into his nose, Fishbone was on it. He squawked, and made a flying leap from my shoulder right to the center of Astrid’s chest, where he clung like some gigantic beetle.

“Hiccup!” She flung her arms out. It reminded me, funnily enough, of Twitch flaring her wings. Apparently, it reminded the Nadder of the same thing too, because her spines suddenly snapped straight again.

“Astrid, relax,” I hissed firmly. “Just stay still.”

Sniffing, Fishbone climbed up her front. His eyes were fixed to the meat contained in her fist, and he licked his lips as he clambered onto the appropriate arm.

“Get closer to me,” I said.

Twitch growled as Astrid did, but I distracted the Nadder with another handful of meat. She followed the hand, leaned in to take it . . . but stopped short when I waved the meat in front of Fishbone’s face. He snapped and shrieked at poor Twitch, claiming the meat as his own, and abandoned Astrid for me.

“See?” I said quietly. “No one got hurt. We’re all fine.”

She watched Fishbone chew on his meal, a flurry of emotions flashing in her eyes.

I nodded at Twitch. “Hold it out to her.”

Astrid froze like a startled rabbit. Twitch, as if sensing she was the new center of attention, bristled. Her tail went out straight behind her. Bu before she could do anything, I distracted her by scratching her in her favourite spot. Her growls tapered out into a rumbling trill.

“Astrid.”

Astrid gulped. Her posture was still insanely defensive as she held the meat as far away from her body as possible. Twitch, enjoying my attention, gobbled it down without a care. A second later, she realized a strange scent had been on that meat and her eyes snapped open.

“Put your hand out,” I told Astrid.

Although she still seemed supremely uncertain, she listened. Twitch stiffened, a light hiss escaping from between her teeth. I shushed her promptly, rubbed her snout, and gently guided it to Astrid’s hand so she could sniff. Twitch did, connected the treat to its deliverer. That knowledge, but mostly my reassurance, was enough to finally get the Nadder to relax

“Under the chin,” I said to Astrid, “or stroke her neck. She likes that.”

Astrid raised her hand, and stopped there. Her mouth was half-open, face uncertain; she looked like a child about to pick up her first weapon.

And, with a deep breath, she did it. She laid her hand on the Twitch’s neck. Twitch hardly even noticed. Astrid looked at me again, still uncertain, so with a nod, I beckoned her to continue.

The first time she moved her hand down Twitch’s neck, it was slow and shy. When the dragon didn’t attack, however, she became more bold. She put more weight into it, let her touch linger, and finally reached under the chin and copied me. Twitch squawked happily, and I slowly inched myself away from the two.

Then, it was just Astrid and Twitch. At some point, Twitch realized my scent was lacking and her head snapped around to face Astrid straight on. Both of them froze, Twitch with wings half-unfurled, unsure whether they were still considered foes.

I watched, holding my breath.

Astrid made the first move. She laid her palm flat against Twitch’s neck again. Twitch cocked her head, glanced at the hand in question, then collapsed her wings and relaxed.

“See?” I asked. “Do you see what I’m saying?”

“They’re tame,” Astrid whispered. She found Twitch’s favourite spot, and the Nadder purred loudly.

I put bravely my hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have to kill them.”

I could see that she was torn. “Hiccup, your leg-”

“It was an accident,” I told her firmly. “He didn’t mean to do it. He was trying to protect me.”

“From what?”

“From you, Astrid.”

She went still. Twitch squawked, annoyed that she was no longer being attended to.

“I knew you weren’t going to really hurt me,” I said quickly, wincing as Fishbone decided to climb on top of my head. “But Toothless – the Night Fury – he didn’t know any better. He tried to protect me the only way he knew how, and I got in the way.”

She shook her head. Stepped away. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Astrid . . .”

“No!” Her sudden shout made Twitch flare and Fishbone jump. “Hiccup, my exam is in a week! I’m supposed to kill a dragon. And now, you come along and tell me that they’re _friendly_.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m a jerk. I didn’t want to ruin this for you, but there’s something really important I have to –”

“What? What now?” she cried.

“I know why they’re attacking Berk, and I know what we need to do to make them stop.”


	26. Chapter 26

“So, they’re like a beehive, and this big dragon, she’s the queen.”

“Exactly,” I said. I absently scratched Fishbone’s chin. I had put Twitch away, but he was small enough to stick around. “She controls them, like has them in some kind of hypnotic trance or something. I know how to knock Toothless out of his, but I don’t know if it would work with other dragons.”

Before she could ask how, I took out the Dragon Repellent and handed it to her. She studied it, turning it over a couple of times, brow crinkled.

“Wait a second,” she said. “Isn’t this that thing Fishlegs made?”

“Yep.” I took the whistle back. “Turned out to be a lot more useful than we thought.”

“Okay.” She glanced up at Fishbone, who was staring at her _intensely_. “What now?”

“I don’t know. We can’t fight her. Not like we would a regular dragon. Astrid, she’s _huge_. Bigger than the Great Hall.” I held my arms out for emphasis.

“But she’s just a dragon,” Astrid said. “Can’t . . .?”

I cut over her. “No, we can’t. She’s not just a regular dragon. She’s a _monster_.”

Astrid’s lips thinned. I could see that she still didn’t really understand just how dire the situation was. “Then what’s your plan?”

“I don’t know.” I rested my chin atop my clasped hands. “I promised Toothless I would do something, but I don’t know what.”

“Have you told your father?” she asked.

“No!” I saw the surprise on her face, and hurriedly said, “No, no way. We can’t tell him about this.”

“But-”

“No!” A bolt of anxious energy coursed through my body, enough so that I squirmed and had to stand. “Astrid, if I tell him, the only words he will hear is ‘dragon’ and ‘nest’. He won’t understand.”

“What if you show him,” she asked, “like you showed me?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t get past the introduction with Fishbone before Dad wrung one of their necks.”

“I guess.” She sighed. “This would have been a lot easier if we had more time. You could have told people earlier.”

“No one would understand,” I lamented.

“I did,” she countered.

“Okay, well, uh . . .” I swear I had something intelligent to say. It just tripped over my tongue, that’s all.

“How do you expect people to understand if you don’t tell them what’s going on?” she said.

I frowned. “It’s not that simple.”

She made a noise of disbelief.

I squeezed my fists. Reminded myself that Astrid had listened to me; she had given me a chance. She was on my side, for good or for worse. For good really, since her cooperation was critical for what happened next.

I sat down next to her again. “I don’t know what to do about the queen, but we have to do something about the exam.”

“Hiccup, I’m not going to walk into the ring and let the Nightmare eat me!” she said hotly.

“I know, I know.” I lifted my hands and slowly lowered them in a placating gesture. Fishbone noticed and tried to copy me. “I think I have an idea. Just trust me.”

She looked at me. Really looked at me.

“Okay.”

We stared at each other.

Fishbone finally decided to attack.

* * *

I spent most of the next week divided between three things: setting up my plan, walking though said plan with Astrid, and forcing myself to walk again. I needed to have at least _some_ mobility that didn’t involve waddling around like a baby bird. It was for the best, too; though the peg-leg worked, it hurt after a while (just after a couple of days, I had blisters all over my thigh to join those around my burns).

Thankfully, a week later, and here I was. I could place some weight on my leg now, so I had a conventional splint to go along with my cane. It still hurt, especially if I stumbled and ended up putting more than a little weight on my leg, but it was exactly what I needed.

And just in time. Today? Today was the day. It was Astrid’s exam, our big chance to show the others that what we were doing was wrong. It also might be the day I was finally eaten by a dragon, but I was doing my best not to think about that.

Anyways, the plan. I did have one, not necessarily a good one, but one regardless. That’s why I was currently sitting in Fishbone’s cage, huddled by the food flap as the Vikings cheered in anticipation of Astrid’s final test. If all went well, I could stay in his cage, but if not, I was here.

With Fishbone chittering on my shoulder, I poked the food flap open with my cane and peeked out. From here, I could barely see Astrid waiting in the gate. Her expression was impossible to see, but the way she stood seemed as confident and solid as ever. If it came down to it. . . I think she would still kill the Nightmare. Her axe wasn’t in her hand, but placed in the center along with all the other weapons she could choose from. Not that she would choose another; that’s why it was right in the center of the rack, where its polished edge glinted with sunlight.

I let the flap swing shut, knowing that no one in the audience would notice. They wouldn’t notice anything on this end, not while Astrid waited in the gate. To Fishbone, I hissed, “You stay in here, okay? I know the Nightmare’s one of you guys, but he’s going to be really freaked out once that door opens. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Then, cheers. They drowned out even the sound of my own thoughts. I peeked through the flap; Gobber had just left the Arena, signalling Astrid to enter. She was taking steady, but slow steps, too slow. She was worried.

“Everything’s going to work out,” I whispered to myself.

She took that last step, and the gate fell shut behind her. The sudden clang made both of us jump, even if the cheering was much louder. She looked back, as if regretting her decision, and then turned her eyes to the crowd. Shouts of “Astrid! Astrid!” engulfed the Arena as she shyly raised her hand and waved, and then those shouts turned into a delighted roar.

When she reached the weapon rack, she didn’t even hesitate. She grabbed a shield, and then her axe and swung it upward so that part of the shaft rested on her shoulder. The motion made her bangs swing, at least swing as much as they could under that horned helmet.

Her eyes settled on the spectator’s area above the Nightmare’s cage. No doubt, that was where Dad sat. I wondered if he had looked for me in the crowd; as far as he knew, I was with the other teens (and the other teens thought I was hiding behind him).

Astrid planted her feet. I couldn’t seem much of her expression, but the pause told me enough.

Then, silence.

Astrid signalled her readiness, and the silence grew even louder.

I let the flap swing shut, and listened to the creak of the wooden stake being removed.

Dust fell from the ceiling as the Nightmare’s cage slammed open. The silence broke; howls of draconic indignation bounced from wall to wall. Metal clinked as the Nightmare climbed across the ceiling, and there was a sudden burst of shouts and the crackle of flames.

A brief calm followed. I looked outside. The Nightmare was right in the center of the ring, attached to the webbing like a giant spider awaiting his prey. There was no fighting yet. That was good. The crowd had ended its hush, and a steady chant was beginning to gain ground. It was low, too quiet for me to hear the words, but I knew the general gist behind it.

It was time.

The Nightmare crawled down from the netting, walking on his wings like a bat. His pupils were slits, body arched and ready, and his upper lip trembled as he growled. Astrid walked backwards as he came toward her.

“Astrid,” I murmured, “come on.”

She was making her way back towards me and the cages, as I had told her to do. But she still wasn’t doing what the plan required; she seemed transfixed, as if the Nightmare had caught her in some kind of spell.

“Astrid!” I hissed. Fishbone, disturbed by the harshness of my tone, chirped and crawled into my lap.

Then, she finally moved. I think she did, at least. The shield fell from her grasp so abruptly that it could have easily been misinterpreted as from fear. There were some murmurs, but nothing too concerned; axes were often easier to use with both hands anyways.

But then, she reached up. Grabbed the helmet. Sluggishly, her actions laced with hesitation, she let it drop.

 _That_ got their attention. Something was shouted – I don’t know what or by whom- and Astrid flinched.

“No.” Her voice seemed soft, but it carried. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing.”

She held her hand out for the Nightmare to sniff, just as we had practiced with Twitch. But the Nightmare wasn’t cooperating; there was a problem. Though Astrid had shed the shield and helmet, she didn’t seem able to bring herself to let go of the axe. And although she held it behind her body, the Nightmare still knew it was there.

“See?” Snotlout’s nasally voice floated through the Arena. “I told you she’s luring it in. Astrid, let me just say that I love your plan!”

Ruffnut put her two words in. “Yeah, now kill it!”

The teens cheered. Astrid jumped, and said, “No, that’s not what I’m trying to show you–”

But it was too late. The cheers had spread, and soon enough others had picked it up. Cries of “Kill it! Kill it!” rang through the Arena like a demonic chant. Astrid’s head swung from side to side, focusing on everything but the Nightmare as the noise started to agitate him. Her grip on the axe shifted.

She was cracking. Breaking under the pressure of choosing between what she needed to do, and what she _had_ to do.

I had to go in.

I shoved Fishbone off my lap, forced myself to my feet, and strode into the light of the Arena.

Utter silence.

“Astrid,” I whispered, “I’ll take it from here.”

She moved aside without a word. I think she was in some kind of shock. With determined steps (well, hobbles), I took her position and faced the Nightmare directly.

Then, someone spoke:

“H-Hiccup?”

Dad’s voice was weak and breathless, like he had been stabbed in the gut. I could hear the seconds ticking down until the surprise wore off and I ran out of time.

“It’s okay,” I said, as much to the Nightmare as I did to Dad. To the Nightmare directly, I said, “I’m not one of them.”

“Hiccup! Hiccup, get out of the ring!” Dad’s hands were white as he clenched the bars.

“No!” I said. “I need you all to see this.”

I held my arm out. Let the cane drop. The next step I took backward was shaky, _vulnerable_. The Nightmare glanced at the cane, making the connection between it and my sudden weakness. Understood that I had left myself to his mercy.

His eyes softened.

To the transfixed, watching crowd, I said, “They’re not what we think they are.”

“Astrid, get him away from there -!”

“We don’t have to kill them.”

The Nightmare was so close now. He had dipped his head a little, just enough so that his snout hovered under my palm. I could feel him tasting my scent, saw –

“ _Hiccup!_ ”

The shout rattled my bones. There was a commotion as Dad shoved his way through the crowd and toward the gate. In his roughness, he bumped Gobber, and he fell into the bars. His hammer of a hand smashed into the iron, denting it -

And the next thing I knew, teeth were flying toward my face.

 _Boom_. Pebbles bounced on the ground as the Nightmare charged over me and into the wall. Astrid was sprawled over top of me, having tackled me to save me from the Nightmare’s wrath. A surge of heat slammed into my back. A foot to the side of me, the rocks were red.

The dragon howled. Astrid and I rolled away from each other as his foot slammed down, seeking to crush.

“Hiccup!”

I rolled onto my back, and my heart thumped loudly when I saw the Nightmare’s eyes boring into my face. He opened his mouth . . . but the pommel of Astrid’s axe slammed into his cheek, and then the Nightmare was after her.

Just then, Dad reached the gate. “This way!”

Dad charged into the Arena, lowered his shoulder, and bodily checked the Nightmare as he tried to set Astrid alight. Nearly slipping, she stumbled toward me, grabbed me by the arm, and virtually dragged me toward the gate.

Dad got there before us. He grabbed the gate, forced it up, and waved us through. We ran -

Suddenly, she pushed me back. Just before a stream of red-hot flames would have swallowed us whole. Astrid fell back into Dad, who threw her back behind the gate. He made a move toward me -

A sheet of near-liquid fire splashed over the gate. Embers rained down and the heat forced him back and behind the gate. The red metal was no longer safe for him to hold open, and the gate slammed down. I struggled to stand –

A red mass blocked out the sun.

And a clawed foot slammed down and held me fast to the ground.

I could hear people screaming my name. But they couldn’t help me, not without spooking the Nightmare into going for the kill. Not that would make much difference, since by staying back, they were leaving me alone with a ferocious Nightmare.

The Nightmare’s jaws creaked open.

My heart stopped.

And the Nightmare . . . _sneezed_?

Suddenly, his attention was no longer on me. While his foot remained in place, trapping me against the ground, the dragon himself paid me little mind. He threw his head up, snorted loudly, and I saw a flash of green –

The snout bashed against the ground, dislodging Fishbone from where he had tried to burrow into a nostril. The Terror rolled in a complete circle, then picked himself up onto his hind legs, and flared his wings, trying to look bigger. I looked back at his cage, where the food flap was still swinging.

My fear for myself turned to fear for him. “Fishbone, no!”

At seeing him, at seeing my tiny little friend baring his teeth at this humongous dragon, I had a sudden rush of sympathy for Dad. I understood what he had felt upon seeing me face down the Nightmare.

“Fishbone!” In vain, I pushed at the foot pinning me.

The Nightmare growled. His forked tongue, longer than Fishbone himself, flicked out. His mouth opened –

And Fishbone spat a fireball directly in it.

It was so small, the fireball, so small compared to the Nightmare. Yet when the orange flames vanished into the larger dragon’s mouth, the Nightmare reeled back as if he had been punched. He went cross-eyed, and nearly shifted his weight off me.

But only for a moment. Then, he was back in all his glory. He shot a quick burst of flames at Fishbone, who snapped around and fled back to the cages. But instead of flying back through the flap into his or Twitch’s cage, he attached himself to the lock of Grump’s cage.

“Fishbone . . .?”

Above me, the Nightmare shot flames at Dad as he tried to get into the ring. Fishbone continued to grapple with the lock, biting and clawing it as if . . . as if . . .

Something uneasy stirred within me. Of all the dragons, I had always taken Fishbone out first. I had always put him back in last. He had always been there when I had fiddled with the locks on the others’ cages. He had seen me undo them dozens of times.

He knew. _He knew how to release the locks_.

Just as I reached that revelation, there was a click.

Grump hurdled out.

Straight at the Nightmare.

Getting rammed by a Gronckle was like running headfirst into a boulder. So, it was perfectly understandable when the Nightmare was thrown off me and across the ring. He rolled, leaving a sizable dent in the ground, and regained his footing just as another click sounded. His eyes snapped to me, but before he could move, Twitch appeared and attached herself to his back. She dug her claws in as the Nightmare tried to buck her off, and the two snapped viciously at each other.

Then, the Nightmare threw itself against the wall. Twitch hit it, too, becoming dazed enough for the Nightmare to toss her off. Grump flew up, snarling, but a stream of fire warded him away, and the Nightmare bounded towards me.

Directly behind me, Breyr sparked. Her other half had yet to release her gas, but the threat was clear. Beside me, pawing the ground like he was a bull, Fishbone growled. The Nightmare stopped short, hesitated. A growl built up –

A high-pitched whine invaded the Arena.

_Screek!­_

I didn’t get past the first syllable of his name before Toothless attacked.

The first shot tore the Arena’s bars apart. The second slammed down between the Nightmare and me. That was enough for him. He yelped and retreated to the other side of the cage as far, far above, Toothless circled.

Then, at the same time as the other dragons, the Nightmare’s eyes turned skyward.

One by one, each dragon flew for the hole.

And just like that, every single one was gone.

I stood, still in awe at what I had seen. My heart was pounding in my chest as I grabbed my cane, leaving me winded. I reeked of sweat and smoke, but I was _alive_. I was alive, the dragons were alive, and they were free. There was nothing fake about the wide smile that filled my face.

And it was with that smile that I saw Dad.

It was with that smile I remembered that though we were all alive, my plan had failed.


	27. Chapter 27

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so sorry!”

Dad answered Astrid not with words, but with a throaty cross between a growl and a shout. He had her by the upper arm, squeezing as he dragged her out of the Arena. I tried to follow them as best as I could, which ended up involving a lot of hopping.

As Dad reached the Arena’s exit, Gobber moved into view. He tried to speak, but Dad cut him off, barking, “Get Hiccup out of here.”

“No!” As Gobber tried to grab me, I squirmed away. “Dad, I swear, this isn’t what you think it is. Just give us a chance to explain!”

We stepped outside. Right into the center of a huge throng of Vikings. Dad jumped. His wide eyes scanned the crowd, and then narrowed.

“Hiccup,” Fishlegs asked quietly, “are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said.

Before I could say more, Dad glared at Astrid and muttered, “No thanks to you.”

“Dad!”

My cry went unheeded. Dad shoved Astrid away from him, not too hard, but it was a shove nonetheless. The crowd seemed to shrink away from him as he drew himself up to his full height and asked, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I-I . . .” Astrid bit her lip. I had never seen her so close to tears.

“Nothing?” He seemed to swell, blocking out the sky. “Nothing after you nearly got Hiccup –and yourself – killed?”

“Hiccup shouldn’t have been in there anyways –” Snotlout started to point out.

“ _Enough_!” The shout was enough to stop any other words Snotlout might have. “Well, Astrid?”

“I-I . . . I’m sorry . . .”

“Sorry. That’s it?” Dad hissed. “You think sorry is enough to make up for what you did? For talking my son into –”

“Dad, no!” I grabbed his arm and pulled, trying to draw his attention away. “Dad, this isn’t Astrid’s fault! It’s mine.”

He gently pushed me away. In a decidedly less-than-gentle tone, he asked Astrid, “What were you thinking?”

“Dad, it wasn’t her fault.” I hit him with my cane. “It was my fault; my plan. She only did what I asked her to do!”

That finally got his attention. His head turned agonisingly slowly.

“ _What_?” he demanded.

“It was my plan,” I repeated. “We . . . _I_ just wanted to show you that the dragons aren’t dangerous. I’ve been spending time with them, I’ve made _friends_ with them, and I’m telling you: we don’t have to kill them.”

A long silence. Then Dad shook his head and looked around.

“Well, what are you all looking at?” he hollered. His beefy arm slashed through the air. “Go! Get out of here!”

The crowd parted before us as Dad dragged me toward our house. Each spectator carried the same frightened and bewildered look. Foremost were the other teens: Snotlout just stared, stunned into silence; Ruffnut and Tuffnut exchanged looks, each looking to the other for an explanation; and Fishlegs shook his head dumbly, silently begging me to tell him that what he had seen had been an illusion.

We passed through the crowd, and I cast one last look back at them. Gobber stood at the front, and Astrid had just pushed her way through to join him. But my focus wasn’t on her, but on the betrayal I saw in my mentor’s face.

Dad ripped the door open to our dark house, and shoved me inside. Though I stuck my cane out in time, I couldn’t stop myself from stumbling onto my wounded leg, and bit back a sharp yelp of pain. Meanwhile, he stood in the entrance and blocked out the sun, just breathing.

“I should have known,” he muttered.

“Dad . . .”

“That message from the gods . . . they weren’t telling us that you weren’t fit for dragon training. They were warning me that you had thrown your lot in with them!”

The door creaked as he strode forward. The light only hit the back of his body, and left the front in darkness.

I chased after his retreating back. “I know. I screwed up. I should have told you before now.”

He whirled around. Light bounced off his chin, giving him a surreal appearance. “Why? Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t mean to ruin Astrid’s exam. I mean, I did, but not in the way you think I did. I was just trying to show you –”

“Show. Me. _What_?” He stepped close, very close, so there was only an inch of space between us.

“That they aren’t dangerous.”

He laughed. A bitter laugh that made my skin crawl.

“Not dangerous? Not _dangerous_?” he roared. “Hiccup, look at you! You can barely walk; you were nearly killed in the ring!”

“You spooked the Nightmare,” I protested, “that’s why he attacked me. And Tooth - . . . my leg, it’s not like that. He was trying to protect me and . . . Dad, they’re not dangerous. We don’t have to kill them -”

He leaned down so that we were face-to-face. “They’ve killed _hundreds_ of us!”

“And we’ve killed thousands of them!” I screamed back. “They defend themselves, that’s all.”

He thumped his fist against his chest, and the sound echoed. “They come to us! We have never attacked them. _We_ defend _ourselves_.”

So much hatred dripped from those words that I cringed. I said, “It’s more complicated than that. Dad, we don’t have to kill them.”

He drew back. His voice dropped in pitch, became rougher. “So what would you have me do? Nothing? Have us hide in our homes and starve while they plunder our holds?”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “They raid us because they have to. If they don’t bring enough food back, they’ll be eaten themselves.”

“And what of us?” His fists clenched. Veins popped out all over his arms. “We don’t have enough food stored for the winter, and those devils have picked the island clean!”

“You have to listen to me!” I cried. “Dad, there’s something else on their island. It’s a dragon, but –”

“Their island?” he whispered.

My heart filled with horror.

“You’ve been to the Nest,” he said. Calmly. Which made it all so worse. “How did you find it?”

“I-I didn’t . . . it wasn’t . . . Dad, only a dragon can find it . . . No.”

I could see the light go on in his brain. His mouth opened into an ‘O’ as he connected the dots.

“Dad, no. Oh, no. Dad, please!”

“A dragon,” he said to himself. “We need a dragon. And we would have had one, if you hadn’t let them go.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. But Dad, listen to me: it’s not what you think.” I grabbed his shirt; tried to make him look at me. “You don’t know what you’re up against. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen!”

He pushed me aside. I fell against the wall, and he walked toward the door.

“Dad, please!” I hobbled after him as fast as I could.

He threw the door open and walked outside. A great disc of light entered, blinding me.

“Dad, _for once in your life would you please just listen to me!”_

He stopped. Turned around. I stopped in the threshold, watching as the sunlight turned his hair into fire.

“You’ve chosen your side,” he said. “You aren’t a Viking. You aren’t my son.”

And the world stopped as he walked away.

* * *

Flat on my back, I stared at the ceiling. My leg ached from all the strain I had put it through today. Even the comforting embrace of my blanket did little to soothe it. I sighed, tucked it in tighter to myself, and turned onto my side. My nightstand greeted me, and upon it, my horned helmet.

I couldn’t look at it. With a swipe of my hand, the helmet clattered onto the ground, ringing.

Then, silence.

“Hiccup?”

Lifelessly, I murmured, “Astrid.”

Nothing much was said for a while after that. I refused to face her; whatever emotion she was feeling – anger or pity – I didn’t want to deal with it. I picked at a loose thread on my blanket.

Wood creaked. I felt the distance between us shrink.

“Hiccup, are you okay?”

“Just fabulous.”

A pause. Then, the blanket shifted as Astrid took a seat near the end.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t the only victim in this. “How are you?”

“I . . .” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shrug. “The others aren’t really talking to me. My father yelled at me a lot. And . . . I’m no longer part of dragon training.”

I winced. I rolled over so that I could look her in the eye. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” she said back.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “This is my mess.”

She took a deep breath, like she was about to say something, but then the door to my room opened. Fishlegs stood, nervously glancing between Astrid and me.

Astrid stood. “I’ll see you later.”

She swept past Fishlegs, leaving the two of us alone.

“Hey,” I said cautiously. Unlike Astrid and Dad, I had no idea what he thought about this.

“Hey,” he said back. He had one hand on the doorframe. “So, you feeling okay?”

I rolled my eyes and let my head fall back onto my pillow. “Why does everybody ask that?”

Fishlegs wrung his fingers together. “Dumb question. Sorry.”

I looked at him, at his uncomfortable stance, and felt guilty. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just not in a great mood.”

“Yeah.” He walked over, and hovered near where Astrid had sat.

We stared at each other.

“Why did you do it?” he asked.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. More than anyone, except maybe Dad, he must have felt the betrayal most keenly. We were supposed to become one of the gang together, and I had flipped that inside out. We had been the misfits, the outcast. In some ways, he was less of a Viking than I was.

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“Okay?” He fidgeted. I could see him trying to figure out whether or not I wanted him to leave.

I began. “A long time ago, I shot down a Night Fury.”

“A Night Fury?” he repeated, aghast. “Nobody’s ever seen one before!”

“Well, I have. I shot him down, and I had him . . . I had him right there.” I pointed in front of me for emphasis. “I had my knife in my hand . . .”

“And . . .?” His voice was filled with wonder, like a child listening to the climax of a bedtime story.

“I didn’t do it.” My hand fell with a thump on the blanket. “Three hundred years, and I’m the first Viking who couldn’t kill a dragon.”

His face fell. “But any of us would have done it. Why didn’t you?”

I shrugged. Rolled over so I didn’t have to look at him. His presence had become suffocating, and it seemed to me that the temperature had gone up a few degrees.

“Hiccup, why didn’t you do it?”

“I . . .” I blinked back tears. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t do it. Because . . . because he looked as frightened as I was. I looked at him, and saw myself.”

I felt a weight lift off me. I hadn’t told anyone that, not even Astrid. Now, Fishlegs knew. And if I had to choose one out of everyone on Berk, I think he would be the one that understood.

Whether he did or not, he didn’t reveal. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry.”

And he left.

* * *

Dad returned near nightfall. His footsteps were loud from either anger or elation. My guess was on the former though, especially when he slammed the front door.

Cane in hand, I made my way to the door and opened it. Just in time to catch him. He froze, not even breathing. The lines in his face were deep.

“Dad . . .”

He turned away, but I couldn’t let him go.

“Listen to me!” I begged. “If you go and fight that dragon, you’re going to be killed. I promise you can’t win this one.”

He laughed humourlessly. “And is that a lie, too?”

“I’m not kidding around. Dad, listen to me!”

“I _have_.” He whipped around, and I shrunk under his glare. “I’ve heard enough. I don’t want to hear . . .”

He trailed off. His gaze shifted to over my shoulder.

“What is that?” he muttered.

I turned. At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I saw it. _Him_. Claws digging into my windowsill, literally hanging outside my window, was Toothless. And he didn’t look happy.

“Oh, no,” I said.

Dad strode forward. He ripped an axe from its mantle on the wall and forced himself past me.

I thrust my cane in front of his knee, allowing me to slip in front of him. “Dad, no. Don’t do this. He’s not dangerous!”

“Is that what you think?” Dad said lowly.

I looked to the window. While I had been saying one thing, Toothless had been doing another. He had crawled inside, so that only his tail remained draped over the windowsill. His teeth locked into place as he drew himself high, did exactly what I needed him _not_ to do.

“Dad, stop! He’s not dangerous, he’s . . . Toothless, don’t!”

Too late, I realized it wasn’t just Dad I needed to worry about. For every bit of Toothless’s body language stated that he wanted a fight. And neither he nor Dad showed any signs of backing down.

“What are you doing?” I said to both of them. “Please, just listen to me. Guys, stop!”

Dad lifted his axe.

Toothless sprung.

Toothless leapt over me, and right onto Dad’s chest. The force disrupted his swing, and the two of them flew backwards onto the hard floor. Dad reached up, thrust his elbow into Toothless’s neck to stop the dragon from ripping out his jugular.

“No, stop. Stop!”

I launched myself at Toothless, and wrapped my arms around his neck. He nearly bit my head off, but realized who I was just in time. The distraction gave Dad enough time to push Toothless off him, and he gallantly tried to get to his feet.

But Toothless wasn’t done with him. He thrashed, wriggled out of my grip, and lunged again. This time when Dad went down, Toothless pounced on top of him, and his mouth opened wide –

“ _NO_!”

He stopped.

Dad shoved him off, and this time Toothless didn’t go back for seconds. Instead, he bounded toward the window. His mouth opened –

Annnnd there went the wall.

Bright orange embers lined the border of the impact site. Toothless had blasted straight through the house and to the outside. The hole was about the size of a Nightmare, large enough for him to easily fit through, conspicuous enough to draw Berk’s attention. Already, I could hear shouts.

Toothless growled.

His eyes landed on me.

He lunged.

With an unnerving ease, he grabbed me right by the scruff of my vest. There was no time to protect myself, no time to protest before he was dragging me toward the hole. All I could do was cry out and try to keep my leg from hitting the ground.

“Hiccup!”

Dad moved with a speed I thought it impossible for him to reach. Right when Toothless leapt out the hole with me, Dad, too, jumped. He attached himself to Toothless’s hindquarters, and the dragon barked in alarm as the weight bore us down.

I don’t really know what happened next. I was too busy grabbing my leg and screaming in pain. But in the single glimpse I caught of the ensuring brawl, Toothless batted Gobber aside with just his tail.

“Toothless . . .” I did my best to call him off, to stop him before he did something we would really regret.

Toothless spared me a look, but that was all. He lashed out at another Viking, grabbing her arm with his teeth and throwing her aside. Another two met the same fate at his wings. Then, he was crouched overtop of me, so that his belly touched mine.

“Get away from him!” Dad grabbed a sword from one of the downed Vikings, and charged.

Toothless roared. His head swung from side to side as he studied the gathering crowd of shouting, bloodthirsty Vikings. He didn’t care that I was pushing him, trying to get him to flee, or just get off me.

Then, he made his decision.

His mouth swooped down. His teeth snapped down on my vest again. And I was lifted off the ground, being passed from teeth to claw.

“No . . . _no_! _Hiccup_!”

Dad’s scream faded into the night as Toothless carried me away.


	28. Chapter 28

Toothless was surprisingly gentle. He kept the pace of our flight calm and smooth, and I could tell by the stiffness with which he moved that he was trying to jostle me as little as possible. And when we came across the cove, when he went in for a landing, he aimed for the water instead of ground. His hind legs thrust forward as he sought to land on them first and delay my meeting with the water.

It worked for the most part. I was just as surprised as him that Toothless didn’t tumble over when he landed on his feet. The initial impact stung, but cold water did wonders for pain. Before I could thank him for his thoughtfulness, he had me by the scuff and was dragging me to shore.

He left me there on the sand, with my lower legs still in the water. I propped myself up, watching as he walked toward the cliffs. I wanted to follow him, but that plan quickly hit a snag: my cane was still in Berk.

He returned, dragging something dark behind him . . . Oh, it was the saddle. He dropped it in front of me, and then barked in expectation.

I gave him an unimpressed stare. “Toothless, this really isn’t the time for us to go flying.”

He growled, and nudged the saddle with his snout.

“No. No!” I stretched the word out. “You just kidnapped me, technically speaking. Can we please go back so that nobody has a heart attack?”

As I was speaking, Toothless had been sniffing my face. And now that I was quiet again, apparently that made it the perfect time for him to lick my cheek.

“Toothless!” I vigorously wiped the dragon drool away. “I’m being serious! You think Dad hated you guys before? Well, that’s going to be nothing compared to what he will think if you don’t bring me back right now. He won’t hate you, he’ll . . . I don’t think there’s even a word strong enough to describe what he’ll feel. Not to mention that you gave Berk a front seat to my kidnapping . . . Toothless, stop . . . Toothless, stop licking me!”

As much as I tried, it was hard to keep yelling when an overgrown lizard was sloppily giving your head a bath with his tongue. Sure, if it was Fishbone I would have been fine. But Toothless was, for a word, _strong_ , and every lick felt like he was trying to push me over.

Oh, look: he succeeded.

“And now there’s mud in my hair. What a fantastic day this is turning out to be.”

Toothless nudged the saddle again.

I groaned. Honestly, short of Toothless picking me up, that saddle was my only way of getting back to Berk. I had no cane to walk with, and even if I did, hobbling through a dense forest with only one working leg? Well, I might as well throw myself down a hill and call it a day. The only other option was to wait here for someone from Berk to find me. But if they found me while Toothless was still around . . .

I sighed. As bad as an idea that flying was, it should stop anyone from dying today.

“Fine.” I tossed the saddle on top of him and, rolled over onto my back so that I could fasten the buckle under his belly. “But you’re taking me right back to Berk, okay?”

I paused, trying to figure out how I was going to get on his back. Toothless understood my hesitation and dropped down low. His wings unfurled, making what almost seemed like a ramp. Not one strong enough for me to climb up though, as I found when I jumped on it and it promptly collapsed. He was, however, able to use it like a supporting hand, so that when I grabbed the tip, he could pull me to my feet (foot).

I took a deep breath, mentally prepared myself and threw myself over his back.

It wasn’t that bad, actually. By this point in time, my skin was healed. It was primary my muscles that were still damaged, so rubbing that leg against his scales didn’t hurt much. Plus, the splint took the brunt of it, and the straps went over my upper leg, so they avoided those painful spots.

“This might actually not be so bad,” I said. I patted his side. “But let’s take it easy today, alright, bud?”

Toothless grunted, and took off.

Once we were above the trees, I tapped the side of his head, signalling I wanted him to turn. He listened, and so, I turned him back toward Berk. We sailed over the trees in silence, while I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of fire.

“There,” I murmured. As I caught my first glimpse of the village, I turned Toothless north. There was an open field in that direction, just beyond my house. If Toothless dropped me off there, I would be able to walk home . . . or crawl, I guess. Or maybe my shouts would go far enough that someone would hear.

We passed over my house. Toothless kept his eyes on it the whole time; I wasn’t sure if he was searching for Dad or not. I kept my focus north, not wishing to excite him into doing something stupid. So, we flew on to the field I had pictured in my mind.

“There.” I reached down under his chin, telling him I wanted to land. He looked back at me, confused.

Then, he laughed.

Abruptly, he swung us away from Berk. His pace quickened. While I shouted and complained, he kept a fixed path forward toward the ocean. If he hadn’t glanced back at me, I would have wondered if he had fallen back under the queen’s control.

I gulped. Wherever Toothless intended to go, it wasn’t anywhere on the island.

Sure enough, Toothless took me over the ocean and to a different place completely. Well, not completely. It still looked rather similar to my island, only there was no Berk. He chose to land by a cliff overlooking the waves, one that had a shallow burrow dug into its side.

As we landed, I asked, “Toothless, is this your den?”

He walked inside, so I took that as a yes.

It was pretty small, and cold. At least until Toothless started cooking the floor with his fire. Then, with the dirt radiating heat, it became rather snug. I freed myself, carefully got off his back, and Toothless immediately herded me into the far corner.

“Well,” I said, “this better be the best spot in the house.”

Toothless rumbled. He curled up around me, so that his back faced the outside.

“I still need to go home. I’m being serious.”

He closed his eyes.

. . .You know what, maybe it was best for now that I stayed here. It might mean Toothless was less agitated when he brought me back. It would mean that the villagers would be more agitated, but maybe . . . maybe it was best Dad had some time to think things over. Without me around.

“One night,” I told him. “Just one night.”

He yawned. I laid my head on his shoulder, and snuggled in close.

* * *

Toothless woke first. When I woke up, too, it was to find him glaring at the entrance. The flaps on his head were held high, and his mouth was open, although his teeth were still sheathed. Either way, not a good sign.

“Toothless, what is it?” I tried to peek over his flank, but he draped his front leg over me and held me down.

He growled. Against me, his body grew tense. There was a scuffle around the entrance, and then I heard a high keen.

I blinked. “Breyr? Breyja?”

I squirmed free of Toothless, and scrambled halfway over his back. Sure enough, the familiar Zippleback was peeking into the den, manner curious.

“Hey!” I rubbed the side of Toothless’s neck. “It’s okay. I know her; she’s a friend.”

Toothless wasn’t convinced. His neck twisted awkwardly as he tried to push me back down with his snout. Failing that, he reached with his back leg.

“It’s fine, Toothless.” I batted his leg aside, and slid over him completely. That got him to his feet.

Using his shoulder for support, I worked myself up to a standing position. By which I mean I was balanced precariously on one foot. Breyr leaned in closer, while her twin kept a close eye on Toothless.

“Hey,” I whispered. I held my hand out for her to sniff.

That was too much for Toothless. He lurched forward, an action that had the unfortunate side-effect of knocking me over. On the bright side though, my sudden fall and gasp had the two dragons forgetting their problems with each other. Instead, they both stared at me in concern.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I said breathlessly. Toothless offered his snout to help me get up.

Breyja crooned. She probably wasn’t sure what had happened. None of the dragons, save Toothless, really knew what had happened to my leg. As far as they were concerned, I had suddenly stopped seeing them, only to come along some time later and set them free.

“What happened to the others?” I asked. “Are they okay?”

She had no idea what I was saying, of course. Instead, she followed my hand with her heads as I moved it around. It was kind of amusing.

Toothless growled. He bumped me, not hard enough to knock me over, but more than hard enough to declare loudly that he was here, too. I rolled my eyes, and scratched him under the chin.

“You attention hog,” I said fondly.

Toothless purred. He opened one eye and glowered at the Zippleback, which made her cower.

I grinned. “At least he isn’t Fishbone.”

I wondered: had Breyr and Breyja gone looking for me, or stumbled upon Toothless and I by accident? What did that mean for the other dragons? I had no doubt that the Nightmare was long gone, and probably Grump, too. But if the Zippleback had come back for me, then I figured there was a strong chance Fishbone would as well. Twitch was a wildcard.

Another thought hit me, this one darker: had the dragons returned to the queen? Just another reason to get rid of her, I suppose.

Breyr and Breyja stayed a little while longer, and sniffed around while Toothless kept his eye on her. Then, with a trill, she took off into the wild yonder.

And that left me with Toothless again.

My stomach rumbled. Judging by the way Toothless jumped and stared at me, I think he first thought I had growled at him.

“I should get back to Berk,” I told him.

He cocked his head. His throat started to constrict –

“Toothless, noooo . . .”

Too late. He spat up fish in my lap.

“Gross, gross, _gross_.” I tried to get the half-eaten fish away while touching it as little as possible. “Toothless, can’t you at least wash them first? Or better yet, keep them in your stomach where they belong? Because now they’re on my lap, and that’s gross, and they _stink_.”

He laughed.

I scowled. “Very funny.”

With a little time, I convinced him to catch me some fresh fish. It took a lot more prodding from there before he would cook it for me, but once he figured out what I was asking, I had a cooked fish. Albeit one very black and scorched.

“Now can you bring me home?” I asked. I crawled over to the saddle, and sat on it. Toothless wandered over; he sniffed the saddle, then my leg. His tongue poked out.

“Fine. But quickly, okay?” I said as I leaned back and let him groom my leg. I barely felt it anymore.

Afterwards, we rose into the air. Toothless took us further inland to ride the thermals. It worried me at first since every minute I spent with him was a minute I spent away from Berk, but I relented. It was probably best that I let Toothless have his fun; I didn’t want him to be stressed when I did go back home, as a stressed Toothless was a dangerous Toothless.

Eventually though, enough was enough. I had no idea which way Berk was, and repeatedly yelling: “I want to go home!” at Toothless didn’t seem to be working, so I signalled him to land instead. Once on the ground, I unlashed myself and turned to face him.

“Okay, Toothless, you have to take me back to Berk.”

Toothless rolled in the grass. He chirped, inviting me to play with him.

“No. This is not playtime. This is Go Home time. Home. Hoooome.”

Toothless had crawled up to me while I was talking. He studied my lips, and then began to move his own, ‘talking’ in mumbles.

I slapped my face.

Toothless slapped his paw over his snout.

“Come on, you know what Berk is, don’t you?” The more I looked at his happy, but blank expression, the more I knew he didn’t know that word. Great. “Uh, Viking. You know Viking, right?”

Toothless huffed, showing that he did know that word. And didn’t like them.

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere. Toothless, you need to take me back. Back to the other Vikings –”

‘Take me’ was something he understood, as was Vikings. He shook his head.

“Toothless!”

He shook his head. He continued to shake his head every time I so much as opened my mouth.

“Toothless, this isn’t funny! I need to go home. I know you don’t like them – sometimes I don’t like them either – but you need to take me back before something happens. Before Dad freaks out or . . .”

I trailed off, remembering one of our last conversations. The one where I had told him how to find the Dragon Nest.

“. . . Or before he gets them all killed.”

That was it. I had to go back. But Toothless wasn’t budging, and I had no way to get back on my own. So, I decided to pull out my dirtiest, most underhanded trick in my arsenal.

I decided to ignore him.

At first, he was content just to sit next to me. Once he realized I wasn’t just tired or thinking, however, things changed. He laid down, and nudged my hand with his snout. I glared, pushed his head aside and said, “Take me back to Vikings.”

He made a confused sound, and shook his head. He jumped on to his feet and stared at me. His mouth creaked open, then snapped shut loudly right before he dove away. He came back afterward, wondering why I wasn’t chasing him.

I turned my back to him. He walked around to my front, and I turned away again.

He barked. Loudly. His hot breath tickled the back of my neck. I looked over my shoulder, and said, “Take me back to Vikings.”

Then I ignored him again.

He yowled. Gashed his teeth. Stomped. I could hear him pacing furiously behind me, pausing every so often to sniff in my direction. Several times, he bumped me, and hard. But Vikings were known for nothing but being stubborn. So, arms crossed, I didn’t react.

Finally, he sat right in front of me and leaned in. He glared into my eyes, ears lying flat.

Very softly, very firmly, I said, “Take me back.”

A tense silence smothered us. Toothless wasn’t giving ground, but neither was I, and I wasn’t scared of his growls and barks. I kept my eyes locked on his in a direct challenge. His low growl grew louder, higher.

And he broke.

He reared, slammed his paws down, and roared into my face.

I bared my teeth.

He barked. Backed up and barked again. Backed up even farther so that he could charge and still stop short. I kept my face fixed in a livid mask, refusing to give him anything. He snarled, rolled over in the grass – this time in agitation instead of playfulness. He tried to snap at the saddle, which was still attached to him. Failing that, he grabbed a large stick in his mouth and whipped it against the ground.

Finally, he wore himself out. He collapsed onto his stomach, breathing slow but heavy. He looked like a sullen child.

I crawled over to him. “Take me back to Vikings.”

He glowered at me. But he didn’t fight when I pulled myself onto the saddle. He did vocalize – a lot – when he opened his wings. The kind of vocalizations that sounded like an angry badger.

We rose into the sky. Toothless flapped his wings with more force than needed. I sighed; I felt bad that he was upset, but I was worried that if I tried to make him feel better, he would take that as an invitation not to take me back to Berk. So, we flew in icy silence.

I directed him to that field north of my house, and we landed. At first, I hesitated about removing the saddle; if I did, I don’t think I would be able to sneak it somewhere safe. Ultimately though, I decided it was probably for the best. After the events of yesterday . . . I don’t think I would ever be able to fly with Toothless again. So, I undid the buckles, and let the saddle drop carelessly to the ground.

“This is it, bud,” I said. “There is no way my Dad isn’t going to put me under house arrest. At least it probably won’t be in a cell.”

Toothless looked away, still bitter over returning me.

“Hey.” I put my hands on his cheeks and guided him to face me. “Hey, I know you’re mad at me. I know you wanted me to stay with you . . . wherever we were. It’s just that . . . see, I . . . I can’t. There are things I still need to do here. People whose view of the world I need to destroy.”

He held my gaze. I rubbed under his chin.

“I don’t know what will happen next,” I told him quietly. “Dad . . . everyone’s pretty mad at me. And they know. Not about you, but they know I’m much closer to you guys than they like. Things are going to change, and I . . . I don’t know if we’re going to see each other again anytime soon.”

He whined. Something in my tone must have told him how serious I was, because not only had he stopped being mad at me, but he tried to lick my face.

I smiled. Pressed my cheek against his face. “You take care of yourself, bad. And stay away from the queen.”

We pressed our foreheads together.

“ _Hiccup_!”

“Whoa! WHOA! What is _that_?”

“Whoa!” I threw my weight over Toothless’s mouth as he snarled. “Not so fast. Remember what happened last time you overreacted?”

I pointed at my leg. Toothless got the point and reluctantly backed down.

From the direction of Berk, Astrid and what appeared to be all the other teens were running across the field toward us. Astrid was waving, her axe absent (thank Odin for that, because Toothless would have gone _berserk_ if it wasn’t). No one appeared overjoyed to see me, but they didn’t appear angry either.

“Hey, Astrid? Everyone?” I cast a wary glance at Toothless, who had taken up a defensive position beside me. “What are you all doing here?”

The twins exchanged look. I realized then that the real reason they weren’t mad or happy was because they were anxious instead.

“Guys,” I said, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Tuffnut said, pointing at Toothless. “Why don’t you tell _us_?”

Astrid shushed him and took a step closer, but then quickly backpedalled when Toothless unsheathed his teeth (I whopped him on the head for that). “Hiccup, do you remember that dragon you showed me? Not the Nadder, but that little one.”

“Fishbone?” I asked. “You mean the Terror?”

“Yes, that one!” She sounded breathless, and that only made my heart pound nervously. “It . . . he . . . _whatever_ , the Terror came looking for you.”

“He did,” I said slowly. I had a bad feeling about this.

“The Terror tracked your scent to your room.”

“Oh, no.” Blood drained from my face. “Please don’t tell me –”

“Stoick caught him,” she said gravely.

I had to remind myself to breathe. “Okay. But he’s just a Terror, right? Dad wouldn’t have . . . they wouldn’t have done anything to him, right? Please, tell me they didn’t hurt him!”

Fishlegs mumbled something. I whipped around in his direction. “Did they?”

He swallowed. “They’ve left to go find the Nest.”

“What?” My voice was soft, almost inaudible. Already? I knew there was a risk of it happening, but to happen so soon?

I said, “Why?”

I didn’t intend to be heard, but evidently, I was. For Tuffnut piped up with: “Well, the chief and Gobber wanted to get there before you were . . . you know.”

Ruffnut smirked. “Before all the meat was stripped from your bones.”

Confused, I looked to Astrid. She told me, “Stoick and Gobber thought the Night Fury took you back to the Nest.”

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yeah, well obviously it didn’t,” Snotlout burst in. “Because he’s standing right here!”

“I need to go.” I fumbled with the saddle, and slung it over Toothless’s back.

“Hiccup!” Astrid called. “What are you doing?”

“They’re going to get killed,” I said harshly. “All of them! I have to do something.”

“Do what?” Ruffnut asked.

“Something crazy,” was all I said.

Toothless purred, delighted at the prospect that we would be flying away from Berk and all its Vikings. I pushed myself onto his back, secured myself, and was all set to go when Snotlout loudly said, “Can somebody please explain what is going on? What is this dragon, where did it come from, and _why is he riding it_?”

I froze. Toothless grumbled impatiently, eager to be off.

Astrid growled, “I’ve explained it to all of you three times already –”

I cut her off.

“I never did tell you guys, did I?” I took a deep breath, and began. “Well, after that whole spectacle in the Arena, I’m sure you all know something is up.”

“No kidding,” Tuffnut laughed. “I haven’t seen anything that crazy since the day Dad thought Ruffnut would make a good Viking.”

I ignored Tuffnut’s comment, and his ensuing fight with his sister. “I’ve been spending my time with dragons.”

A pause.

“So, like fighting them?” Snotlout asked, raising his fists.

“No,” I said patiently, “like hanging out with them. Like, you know, friends.”

The hilariously blank looks I got almost made the confession worth it.

“I don’t get it,” Tuffnut said.

I sighed. “Dragons . . . they’re not what we think they are. They’re not our enemies. Not the real one. And I’ve been spending time with them and discovering just how little Berk actually understands them. Guys, we don’t have to kill them. We don’t even have to fight them.”

“What . . .?” Snotlout’s mouth hung open.

I turned to Fishlegs. If anyone would understand, it would be him. “There’s a notepad under my mattress I said. Read it.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“The New and Improved Book of Dragons.” If anyone could make use of that information, it would be him. I patted Toothless on his side. “Okay, time to get going.”

“Hiccup!” Astrid lurched forward, a hand out as if to grab me.

I looked back at her.

“Be careful,” she said.

I nodded.

And with that, Toothless and I were back in the sky.

I leaned down close to him. In one hand, I took out my whistle and showed it to him. “It’s time, Toothless. Time to end this.”

He knew what I was talking about and whined.

I asked him, “Do you trust me?”

Naturally, he had no idea what I was saying, but his eyes hardened regardless. He pointed toward the ocean and over the waves, to the faraway land of the Dragon Nest and its wicked queen.


	29. Chapter 29

The wind was cold and sharp against my cheeks, as if reminding me to pay attention. Not that I needed a reminder. I could picture her, the queen, as she emerged out of the fog; could feel those eyes burn through my skin to my soul. I patted my pockets, double-checked that I had the whistle, and then checked on Toothless.

Although this time he wasn’t under the queen’s control, he flew with the same single-minded determination. The only difference was that his body was tense, not quite moving the way it usually did, and he was growling. It wasn’t a vicious growl, but a worried one, like the one he had given when I first tied the saddle to his back.

“We’ll be okay.” I put my hand on the side of his neck and rubbed, reminding him that he had me.

Toothless said nothing, but I saw him close his eyes.

The fog rolled in. I know it was probably my imagination, but I swear the fog moved accordingly every time Toothless beat his wings. Certainly, it seemed alive in a way it hadn’t been before; it churned and frothed like the waves below us. I knew it wasn’t from any wind; the only disturbance in the air came from us. That, and from the sun, whose disc-shaped form brightened the fog and ruined the otherwise uniform spread of greyness.

Silence followed in our wake. There was no need for comforting words now; we had entered the lair of the beast, and our path was set.

Then, noise.

“Brace yourself,” I warned. Toothless snorted, teeth showing.

Something flashed through the fog to the right of us. I didn’t get a really good look, but it didn’t seem very big. Goosebumps spread over my arms. I set my eyes ahead and looked for danger there.

Another blur. The sounds became louder. I could recognize them now as dragon calls. They were all short and shrill, and with their number, almost overwhelming in their intensity. But although I had the weaker hearing and had to clamp my hands over my ears, Toothless seemed alright. I guess dragons were used to that kind of noise.

Dragons whipped past us on all sides, so close that I actually worried they would knock me off Toothless. Speaking of my favourite Night Fury, he wasn’t faring so hot now. Seeing all these terrified, fleeing dragons had chipped away at his courage. I couldn’t blame him; I could taste the fear in the air, and every survival instinct I had screamed at me to run.

I leaned down as close to him as I could, and laid my head against his neck, where I could faintly hear the thump of his irregular pulse. I put my hands on his shoulder – not on his neck this time; that might make it worse – and spoke directly into his ear.

“It’s okay, Toothless. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

I kept speaking until his heartbeats steadied. A great sigh of relief went through him with that.

By the time we got to the real party, it was chaos. Not like I hadn’t known it was going to be like that going in, however. We had heard the shouts before we had seen what was going on, not to mention heard the bellows of the queen herself. But getting past the fog and seeing what was going on? It made my mind freeze. I hadn’t kidding when I once described her as a mountain, and yet she was so much larger than I had imagined in my worst nightmares. She had spines everywhere: along her back, covering her tail, jutting out from her legs, so that she resembled a particularly craggy peak.

And as it was clearly evident, her bulk wasn’t her only asset. Fires raged all across the beach, illuminating the rubble of our once-proud catapults. They were so small compared to the queen, and even smaller still were the tiny figures of the Vikings as they raced back to their fleet . . .

Only to be met with a wall of fire.

“Toothless . . .” I whispered.

In one fell swoop, the queen had set the ships ablaze. The sickly orange glow seeped through the fog, tainting it. The Vikings scattered, leaving the ships to their doom.

It was then I remembered:

“Fishbone.”

Like me, Toothless had been transfixed by the sight. When I knocked him on the head though, he sobered up pretty quickly. He thought I was crazy when I tried to steer him toward the ships. He didn’t know Fishbone, nor did he understand I was trying to save one of his kin from burning alive, so it took effort to urge him closer.

I looked for the flagship. That would have been Dad’s ship, (speaking of which, where was he?) and so, Fishbone must have been on there.

I didn’t wait. When I saw it, I unlashed myself and jumped off Toothless’s back, forcing myself to walk through the pain. Toothless fluttered about anxiously, too worked up and wary of the flames to land.

Fishbone was shut inside a small cage, buzzing about frantically in an attempt to escape. He was so panicked that he didn’t even stop to thank me when I freed him. Instead, he zipped off into the sky, disappearing into the fog.

Toothless screeched a warning, but it was too late. Out of a cloud of smoke, the giant club that was the queen’s tail emerged, slamming right into the mast of the fleet. The ships pitched sideways, me aboard. There was no time to get to safety. I went down with the ships, fell into the unforgiving grasp of the ocean . . .

But sharp claws reached through the waves and pulled me ashore.

Toothless rose higher into the air, away from the burning wreckage as I clung to him. I waited for him to land so I could get on . . .

I saw him, him and Gobber, facing down the queen alone. They were tossing stakes, banging their shields to try and distract her. But she was so big . . . she would so easily be able to kill them both. And as I thought that, she reared up to her full height, opened her jaws . . .

“Toothless! Toothless, you have to flame her!”

I beat on the dragon’s side. He jumped and stared at me as I pointed wildly at the queen.

“Toothless, you need to get her _now_.”

He groaned, confused. Even if he knew what I wanted him to do, he also knew that a shot like that would end up being a wasted one.

“Toothless, _flame her!_ ”

The shot came quickly. Smoke billowed around the impact site. The queen fell to the ground, making a tremor equivalent to that of an earthquake. Dad and Gobber, aware that someone else had joined the firefight, turned to see me.

I would have said something to them, probably something snarky, but my attention was caught by the shifting form of the queen. And the wings that she had finally unveiled.

“Toothless . . .” I hissed as the queen’s wings unfurled to their full length.

I met Toothless’s eyes. We both came to the same realization: the queen was after us, and I was still hanging from his claws.

“Go, go!” I cried as she came after us. He didn’t need my urging, and took off, with me dangling helplessly.

He weaved through the rocky obstacle course, in a wild, reckless manner similar to our first true flight. But this time, that craziness was necessary. It was the only thing keeping us ahead of her. The queen didn’t even need to navigate the maze; she just smashed through it like it was parchment. Rocks flew in all direction, and the rain of debris made the path that much more treacherous.

I looked from her to Toothless. We wouldn’t survive like this, let alone win, not while Toothless was focused on keeping a hold of me. I needed to be up there, on the saddle. But she wasn’t going to let that happen anytime soon . . .

It didn’t matter. I had to get up there.

I grabbed a stirrup with one hand, and wriggled out of my vest. Toothless cried out in panic as he felt me slip out of his grasp, but I shouted at him to keep going and added my second hand to the first. The leather dug into my palm as I hung, struggling to lift myself -

He turned sharply, the force slamming me against him. The queen carried on straight ahead, wrecking a large rock formation. She howled in rage, perhaps even a bit in pain, and that was good. Until I felt Toothless shudder. His body started to seize up, slow . . .

“No!” I didn’t even think about how dangerous hanging by one hand would be; getting caught by that queen would be a _lot_ worse. So, I hung there with one hand, groped for the whistle with the other, and then brought it to my lips, and sounded that sucker as loud as I could.

Toothless shook his head, broke out of the control. His wings beat furiously as he struggled to regain the speed he had lost.

But she was already there. Her mouth opened, and without warning, Toothless was forced to turn viciously. Before my brain could even squeak a warning, an incredibly powerful force gripped me and pulled me away.

I squeezed that single hand close. Squeezed it hard enough that sweat built up. And as the sweat built, I could feel my grip on the stirrup slipping, slipping away . . .

One finger was gone. I was hanging on by three now, and my blood was racing in my ears. I told myself it couldn’t be that much longer. I just had to go a little more –

Another. Just two now. My teeth sunk into the inside of my cheek, drawing blood. The leather was slipping under my fingers, sliding . . .

It was over. Immediately, I reached up and grabbed the stirrups with both hands. Alright, that was done. I just had to get up . . .

I pulled. Pulled as hard as I could. _Pulled_.

And it finally dawned on me: I couldn’t do it. I literally couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough.

“Toothless . . . I can’t . . . I can’t do it.”

My tone said it all. Toothless glanced at me sharply, eyes expressing his terror. And the queen took a deep breath.

He went up. Up high, and then flattened out. The queen followed his every move.

I watched as Toothless folded his wings in. He wasn’t going to dive with me like this, would he -?

He didn’t.

Instead, he rolled.

I spun in a complete circle, holding on only through sheer force of will. At the end of Toothless’s roll, my momentum kept me going up and over, and I understood.

I hung onto the stirrup. Let myself fly around him. And when it was within reach, I let go and grabbed the front of the saddle.

I landed halfway on his back, and that was enough. Toothless felt it, and at once, held himself flat as possible. He stopped his tricky maneuverers and flew only forward. I seated myself, strapped myself in as behind, the queen closed in, sensing her prey’s weakness . . .

“Toothless, now!”

And we flew up, narrowly dodging the queen’s snap. We flew up, straight into the clouds. A Night Fury’s favourite place to hide.

The darkness swallowed us. Toothless jerked again, and I broke him out of the trance again. A triumphant roar signalled that the queen had heard me, but the darkness was our domain, and we disappeared before her head broke through the cloud barrier.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

Creepily, Toothless laughed. His wings folded in, and we began to fall –

Down, down we went, until the queen, still looking for us, came into view. Then, Toothless’s signature screech built up in his throat, and he released it in a burst of purple flame. The fireball exploded against the queen’s wing with a bright flash, providing the perfect cover we needed to fade back into the shadows.

Five times more, Toothless struck. Each one flashed like lightning, and the explosion echoed like thunder. Two times more, the queen tried to sing her spell. Each time, a blast of the whistle set him free. The queen howled, screamed, and lost it. She thrashed violently in the air, spitting a huge swath of fire in all directions. I could feel the heat on my skin, drying what sweat remained. It felt like my clothes were about to catch on fire. But Toothless knew what he was doing, and he rolled and weaved as the ribbon of flames danced around us.

She was falling to earth, but apparently not fast enough for Toothless’s liking. He dove too, quickly closing the space between us and the queen, zipping from side to side as he dodged the fire. He shot a fireball, a weak one, meant to taunt rather than hurt, and dove right past her nose. And she took the bait without even thinking.

We fell together. The sight of her behind us, mouth opened in preparation to devour us whole, made my blood turn to ice. But Toothless wriggled his body, catching my attention, and gave me a toothless grin over his shoulder.

“What?” I asked.

In response, he opened one of his wings just a tad.

“You . . . you went after her wings,” I murmured. Toothless had wrecked those poor things and this dive . . . he hadn’t lured her into any ordinary dive. He had lured her into a suicidal one. With the speed she now had, there was no way she would survive a crash into the ground, and the only wings she had to slow down with were damaged ones.

“You’re a genius!” I cried.

The queen came up behind us, growing closer and closer. My heart raced, but Toothless seemed okay. He started to angle himself, preparing to pull us out of the queen’s path. He beat his wings hard, once, twice –

And reeled back as teeth snapped shut an inch away.

He tried again, but with every wingbeat that didn’t send us further down, he slowed, and that gave the queen time to reposition herself accordingly. Again and again, he barely avoided her bite. Despite his efforts, we remained below her, straight in the path of danger. Toothless may have correctly determined a way to defeat her, but he had miscalculated his own ability to escape afterwards.

“Toothless. Toothless, do something!”

But he was out of clever plans. He panicked, trying to fly faster and faster, even though we had hit terminal velocity. His paws scythed the air, groping for anything. My own mouth ran dry, filling with a bitter taste.

Everything seemed to be moving so slowly. I looked rapidly from side to side, for anything to get us out of this. Forget goosebumps; my hair was about to stand on end. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, making want to run, puke and punch something all at the same time.

Think. _Think_! There had to be a way out of this!

I swallowed a mouthful of bile. The resulting mixture made my stomach twist. Down would kill us, that was obvious. Sideways was useless. That left one direction: up. Straight at her.

As I looked up, looked up straight at death, my life flashed before my eyes. Or not. Rather, one specific memory did: another close call inside a ring, a ring meant for killing, with bars for its ceiling and an audience full of Vikings. I had looked straight into a dragon’s throat that time, too, and like now, had teamed up with a tiny dragon to defeat the giant one. Fishbone and I had survived, and Fishbone had . . . he had . . .

The mouth. The inside of the mouth. That was the answer. They weren’t so fireproof on the inside.

“Toothless, turn over. Toothless, turn!” I grabbed his ears and tugged harshly. I needed him to listen to me _now_.

But he was panicking. He kept trying to go down, to get away from her.

“Toothless. Toothless!” I growled and grabbed the whistle.

It slipped.

“NO!” I watched in horror as the whistle, my sure-fire way of getting his attention, tumbled out of reach.

“ _Toothless_! Toothless, listen to me!” I screamed into his ear. I don’t know if he could hear me over his own shrieks. “Toothless, you have to stop this! You have to flip over. It’s the only way!”

The queen drew closer. We were barely a yard away from being devoured.

“Toothless, listen to me! Toothless, please!”

His eyes bugged out when he saw how close she was.

“Toothless, calm down. Toothless, listen to me!”

I screamed, “ _Toothless, trust me_!”

The crying stopped. He went still. Looked over his shoulder at me.

I set my jaw. Grabbed his ears, and _pulled_.

He turned slowly, unsure. I kept a tight grip, kept him spinning until we were facing the queen. Strands of saliva were strung between her massive fangs. Her three pairs of eyes narrowed cruelly, sensing victory.

Toothless whined, tried to turn around. But I held him there, hissed, “Wait.”

Oblivious to the growing holes in her wings, the queen pumped them, eager to erase what little space existed between her and us. Her jaws opened wide –

“ _Now_!”

He shot.

Abruptly, her mouth slammed close. A wisp of smoke escaped from between her teeth. Her pupils widened, went cross-eyed, and Toothless sensed the opening and took it.

He flew out from under her, and snapped his wings open, muscles shaking as he strained to slow us down. Seeing what he was doing, the queen tried to copy, only to finally realize what we had done to her wings. She bellowed, in rage and despair as Toothless slowed us down enough to fly skyward instead.

Just as she hit the ground.

She must have breathed fire before she died, that’s the only explanation I had for the wall of flames that shot up toward us. But I trusted Toothless. He flew up along the queen’s body, deftly weaving his way through the spikes and spines.

“We’re almost here!” I cried. “Keep going!”

I looked back at the wall of fire, feeling a mix of anxiety and fear that disguised itself as a surreal excitement. We could do it. We were going to do it –

Wait, were those flames underneath -?

The queen’s tail moved into our path. Toothless flapped his wings hard, jerked –

 _Snap_.

Something in the saddle gave. Suddenly, I was no longer on his back, but more on his side, attached by only a redundant, back-up strap. The abrupt shift in weight was enough to disrupt Toothless’s flight, and-

Then the only thing I could see was her tail.

The tail moved slowly enough that I could actually see the back-up strap fray from the force. When it hit me, it hurt surprisingly little; there was just pressure, like doing a belly flop in a lake.

And I was falling. Toothless noticed the loss of weight immediately, and whipped around, shrieking.

The last thing I saw was his green eyes.


	30. Epilogue

It was warm. Too warm, almost. I frowned, instinctively wiping my brow, even though it lacked any sweat. There was something itchy under me. Fur, maybe? It sure felt like it. And I was pretty sure, judging by the way it tickled my nose, that there was fur on top of me, too.

I opened my eyes into a bright light.

I shut them quickly, and winced. I had, when I first became conscious again, been aware of a pounding headache. The light just made it worse. So, I groaned, and rolled over onto my stomach.

Something touched my shoulder.

“So, you are awake,” a woman’s voice said.

I used a hand to shield my face, and then opened my eyes. What I saw was an older lady with a Viking helmet perched upon her head. Light illuminated her from behind, making her glow.

“Hi, Grenda.”

“Hiccup.” Grenda nodded. The glow faded as she moved away from the window.

“What happened?” I propped myself up with my elbows. “Where am I?”

“On a ship,” she said. “We’ve made it all the way back to Berk, actually. I was just waiting for Stoick so we could move you.”

“Okay . . . what happened to Toothless?” I’m sure I looked absolutely frantic. In my haste, I banged my elbow against the table holding me, too.

“The Night Fury?” She bit her lip. “Our understanding is that he rescued you from the flames, but . . .”

“But?” I repeated, almost angrily.

“It’s not something you’ll be happy to hear,” she warned me.

“ _What happened_?”

She sighed. “He and Stoick got into a fight.”

“Is he okay?”

“Stoick is fine.”

“What about Toothless?”

She scowled. “Oh, the dragon is fine. It’s outside, in fact. Followed us all the way back. As did the others . . .”

She was about to say more, but then the door opened. Dad’s face peeked in.

“I will leave you two alone,” Grenda said. She slipped out, and Dad came in.

The silence was awkward.

“So . . .” I said. “You and Toothless?”

“We had to let Grenda look at you,” Dad said, “but the Night Fury wasn’t letting anyone near you . . . Don’t look at me like that. The dragon was too exhausted to fight anyways. It was a tug-of-war, not a fight.”

“Okay,” I said, deciding to accept that for now.

Dad took a deep breath. “He saved your life.”

“We saved each other,” I said quietly. I meant that in more ways than Dad knew.

“Aye,” he said. “I thought you were gone, but he brought you back to me.”

“And now I’m all here.”

He muttered something under his breath.

I frowned. “What?”

He pointed downward. I grabbed the fur pelt covering my body, whipped it off, and looked down at my legs.

“Dad . . . why am I only wearing one shoe?”

“It was . . .” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That little dragon. The Terror. He snuck in somehow during the voyage. By the time we realized he was there, he had completely chewed it up.”

“Oh . . . that sounds like him.”

“We couldn’t find your vest, either.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I mean it could have been worse. It could have been my actual foot instead of my shoe.”

Dad sucked in a breath. “That would have been bad.”

“Terrible.” I shook my leg. “I mean it’s been bad enough having this one injured. I don’t know how I would survive if I lost the other one.”

Dad chuckled and shook his head.

Silence rushed in. The weight of what we weren’t saying, of the past, pressed down heavy on my chest. I lazily traced the lines in the ceiling with my eyes as Dad paced the small length of the room.

“Hiccup,” he said, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“It’s fine. I forgive you.”

“You sure?” he grunted. “There were things done, things said between us that I don’t think you should take so lightly. I . . .”

He passed by me at that instant, and I put my hand on his arm to quiet him. “Dad, it’s okay. You were confused, I was being frustrating and vague, I get it.”

For a few seconds, all he did was look at me. “Hiccup –”

“Dad, it’s okay.” I looked up at him. “Grenda said Toothless was outside.”

He swallowed back something, words I think, and nodded.

Without a further sound, I shuffled to the edge of the table. Dad knew what was coming, and handed a cane over without a fuss. I walked to the door, opened it, and walked out into the blinding sunlight.

There were Vikings, all of them it seemed, waiting on the docks. Every one of them went quiet when they saw me. I cautiously waved, not entirely sure what was going on –

The boat rocked.

I smiled. “Hey, bud.”

Toothless bounded over to me. He thrust his snout into my face and sniffed. When I had passed that test, he leaned his weight on his heels and started bouncing from side to side.

“Nice to see you, too.”

I reached out for him. He barked happily, and leapt up onto the ship’s mast. His whole body wriggled, and then landed on the deck again with a thump.

He leapt at me.

His weight bore me to the ground, and he pinned me there as he slobbered all over my face. Normally, I would be rather annoyed, but considering the circumstances . . . I would live.

“Hiccup.”

Toothless went rigid. He was on his paws in an instant, placing himself firmly between Astrid and me.

“Toothless, it’s okay.” I pushed him back. Or at least tried to. But he wasn’t budging.

I realized then he wasn’t just looking at Astrid with suspicion, but _all_ of them. Without exception. And not all the looks he was receiving were friendly either.

_Thump_.

I looked up at the mast and blinked. “Twitch?”

She had something dark in her mouth. When she hopped down to the deck, I saw that it was my thought-to-be-lost vest. She dropped it at my feet, and I picked it up –

And yelped as Fishbone leapt out.

He attached himself to my chest, ignoring Toothless’s warning hiss, and crawled up to my shoulder. Toothless stomped, clearly displeased.

A keen. Breyr and Breyja glided down. A drone – Grump’s wings – followed her. And higher still, circled a large, familiar dragon – the Nightmare.

The Vikings whispered to each other, stunned by this display of unity. That was interrupted by Gobber, who pushed his way through the crowd, shouting, “I’ve done it!”

“Done what?” I asked as Fishbone flew off my shoulder.

“I’ve fixed the saddle, lad,” he said proudly.

I gaped. “How?”

“Oh, it was just a couple of straps missing,” Gobber said. “An easy fix.”

“Okay, great.”

He tossed the saddle onto the boat. I wasn’t expecting it, but Toothless went wild. He barked, rolled on it, and snatched it up before running back to me. He dropped it at my feet.

“You want me to put it on now?” I asked uncertainly.

He nodded his head. Apparently, he had taught himself the meaning of that, too.

So, I did. I was aware of every eye on me, and that made my fingers stiffer than usual, but I did it.

As I straightened up, my work done, the dragons began to take off. Toothless and Fishbone alone were the exception. Fishbone was hovering above the Vikings, studying them. Toothless had his paws on the rail of the ship.

“You’re leaving,” I whispered.

In a terrible way, it made sense. They didn’t trust Vikings. They didn’t want to stay nearby. The Red Death wasn’t here anymore, and they had no reason to be afraid. They had no reason to need me.

Even Toothless.

So why was he still here?

I got my answer when he looked back at me, and chirped.

“Toothless . . .”

I could tell just by his eyes what he was asking.

I shook my head and took a step away. There was something rising up inside me: a longing; a _need_. “I can’t, Toothless. This . . . this is my home, and I. . . I don’t know . . .”

He whined. Trotted over to me, and laid his head in my hands.

I swallowed hard. “Toothless . . .”

“Hiccup.”

Both Toothless and I stiffened when Dad spoke. I turned my head slowly, afraid of what I would find there.

But before he could say anything, Gobber hobbled over. He placed a firm hand on Dad’s shoulder, and although it was to him that he spoke, he looked directly at me.

“Stoick,” he said slowly, “I think this decision ought to be his. And if this is what he wants . . . He’s a grown lad, now.”

I smiled. A sad smile, but a smile regardless. I looked to Dad.

He looked like he was about to choke. For a long ten seconds, he did absolutely nothing. Then, he nodded stiffly.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Hiccup, do what you must.”

I stared unable to believe what I was hearing. I looked into the crowd. I saw the same resigned expression on Astrid’s face, and Gobber (who was also wiping his eyes), on . . .

Oh, there was Fishbone. He was sitting on Fishleg’s shoulder, happily accepting a fish the Viking shakily held out to him before flying back to my shoulder. I locked eyes with Fishlegs, let him know I approved of his actions with a nod. I had been right that he would be able to use the knowledge I had recorded in my Book of Dragons.

Berk would be fine.

“Thank you,” I said to everyone. I patted Toothless, and told him to wait. Then I walked up to Dad.

He stared down at me, but for once, I felt like I was the taller one. No tears fell from his eyes, but if I looked close enough, I could see that they were glistening.

“I’ll come back,” I promised.

Without prompting, he grabbed me and held me tight. “I know you will.”

We stayed like that for some time, and then I returned to Toothless. As I strapped myself in yet again, I imagined I felt a chain snap, one I hadn’t known existed until now. I felt so light; so _free_.

And Toothless and I took off. We caught up to the other dragons before long, and flew into the unknown. I had no idea how long I would be gone from Berk, or where we were going, but with the dragons by my side, I was sure everything would turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That marks the end of Making History. There is a short/oneshot sequel that I will post within the week. So, keep an eye out for Dreki Kyn!


End file.
